


Chasing Samantha

by ohmissyyousofineee



Series: Original Works [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 1980s, Crimes & Criminals, Drug Use, F/M, Mystery, New York City, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Novella, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2018-11-02 14:06:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 26,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10946091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmissyyousofineee/pseuds/ohmissyyousofineee
Summary: In 1985 Samantha Wally-Conway was framed for murder.In 1985 Tony Fartuchi was the most notorious hit man in New York City.What if he saved her from self destruction?What if it all went terribly wrong?





	1. Prologue/ Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is my original work, I started writing it roughly 2 1/2 years ago and finished it late last year. The writing isn't the best and it hasn't been grammar picked but I hope whoever reads it enjoys anyways.

Prologue: 1985 New York City, New York

New York. It was not so much as just a city, but it was a world. It was his escape from reality watching the sunset every night and rise every morning. He quickly adapted to the busyness of the city streets and the throngs of people surrounding him. 

Eventually, the time came and they told him that there would be money, lots of money and he loved money, he loved the smell of money and he loved running his calloused fingers over the surface of it. 

So he said yes with not a waiver of hesitance in his voice. He had to hurt, blackmail, and murder many people. 

At the end of the day he sat down on his porch with a glass of expensive whiskey, a cigarette and a Frank Sinatra record, he adjusted his fedora over his mop of curly golden brown hair rubbed his tired dark brown eyes and knew that in the end it would all be worth it. Now, if only he could find the girl prodding his head and the ring he was dying to slide on her finger...

Monday, December 31st, 1984 11:50 pm New York City, New York

Samantha Adeline Wally Conway or as she was known; Sammie, was not feeling good at all. At 25 years old standing at five foot nine inches she figured she could have three or more glasses of champagne at a New Year’s party without wanting to throw up, or pass out. 

Her heart was beating out of her chest, her feet ached in the annoying black heels her friends told her to wear although she would have much rather taken her beat up black converse, she couldn’t even walk in the heels instead she waddled and sometimes tripped. 

Her head was throbbing, there were beads of sweat rolling down her heavily powdered and made up cheeks The Pointer Sisters “Jump For My Love” was blasting on the cassette players throughout her best friend; Charlotte Vincent's family’s ginormous house. 

Charlotte known as Char, had long light blond hair, light skin dusted with freckles and big, doe, dark blue eyes, she was wearing a tight fighting cherry red lace dress with long sleeves. 

Samantha’s other best friend Olivia Holland was wearing a off the shoulder white dress she had extremely long, wavy, dark brown hair, the biggest and brightest blue eyes Sammie had ever seen and porcelain skin. They both came and dragged her to the dancing area, which was in reality was the fairly large living room. 

Samantha really wished her cousin Amelia-Jane Elizabeth Wally was at the party, but Amelia-Jane also known as Amy detested Char and Olivia so she told her that she hadn’t wanted to go. Suddenly, Samantha felt a sharp pain in her temples. 

She grabbed another glass of champagne off of a nearby tray and downed the fizzy drink, taking yet another glass deciding to savor it, in the end she ended up downing it. Sammie didn't know what was wrong with her she drank, but always in “moderation” or at least her idea of moderation and with that she grabbed another glass. 

“Sammie? Are you alright?” Char asked lightly tousling the top of Sammie’s damp, curly hair, which was out of place.

“Yeah! I’m going to use the washroom excuse me for a moment.” Sammie replied waving her friend away, and putting her half full champagne glass on the window ledge she was standing by.

“Hurry up! It’s already 11:57!” Olivia-best known as Via, called out over her shoulder. “You have to party while you can Sammie! No one looks back on their life and remembers the nights they got plenty of sleep!” Sammie heard Via and her words of wisdom and her gorgeous loud laugh, but she was concentrating on waddling to the washroom as quickly as the seven inch shoes-of-hell would allow her to. 

“Sammie? Are you okay? Want to dance?” Patrick Gunnery, Sammie’s best guy friend from way back in high school asked, she could tell that he was blushing and it wasn’t the body heat radiating off of everyone dancing, he had always had a crush on her, he slid up behind her and grabbed her hips and attempted to press her to his front, but she wrenched away from him feeling the burn of vomit creeping up her esophagus. 

She liked him but her heart was like a light switch, whenever he did something embarrassing the light would go off and her feelings would falter she sometimes felt that she liked him because of the affection and attention that he gave her.

“Yep, Pat I’m fine don’t worry about me. Maybe later. Mind if I use the washroom?” She gave a nervous laugh and forced a smile. He looked at her worriedly she walked over to the washroom. Once inside she locked the door and looked in the mirror she sighed, once again massaging her temples, she knew something was wrong but she could not decipher what it was. 

Sammie wobbled over to the toilet and sat down on the lid smoothing out her strapless, plain, tight, black dress, then taking off the heels and massaging her feet. Her mother Martha Wally had told her she should wear the heels 'to look less awkward than she already was.' 

Sammie had shoulder length, curly golden brown hair she always was teasing it to make it look “bigger” she had her hair blown out and loosely curled for the party. She had dark blue streaks on either side of her head. 

Sammie had bright almond shaped hazel eyes that had small flecks of blue, she had freckles along the either sides of her button nose, she loved rock bands and the color black even though most of the girls preferred neon pink and yellow, she also loved red lipstick, she always had her nails painted black and her toes painted either dark blue or a coral color. 

She worked at a precinct in downtown Manhattan, she was noted as an administrative assistant but really she was the girl who got coffee for everyone, yet more than anything in the world she wanted to be a detective. She worked alongside the most annoying man on the face of the planet: Daniel Malcolm he was from Brooklyn and had a heavy accent he was also a man that Sammie had always had a schoolgirl crush on. 

There was another man that always piqued her interest, she often followed up on him during her ‘free time’ she liked to call him a “mental freak” his name was Tony Fartuchi he was currently somewhere in New Jersey where she hoped he would stay, he was always known sending creepy notes and such. 

He was referred to as the hit man who famously and brutally murdered people, then going under the radar, he would leave notes and very small breadcrumb like clues for the authorities, often times they wouldn’t come close to solving the case or even proving that he did murder the victims she got goosebumps at the thought. 

Tony Fartuchi was stuff of legend, most of the authorities thought he was a fake, perhaps some doped up man with nothing better to do, but she knew better she had always had a feeling deep down that he was real and that they would meet. 

Sammie suddenly scowled thinking of Daniel, even though she would never admit that she had always admired him from afar. Only Patrick, Char and Via knew that, but then again Patrick ignored the fact that she liked Daniel because she was ‘too good for him’. 

Suddenly the pain in her temples returned she squeezed her eyes shut and only saw black. After a few minutes the pain in her temples subsided, she stuffed her now swollen and purple feet back into her heels groaning a bit and she wobbled back out to the dancing area. 

Her friends didn’t even know, but Samantha Wally Conway was a clairvoyant and she knew that there was something wrong with the vision she was trying to have. Without thinking Sammie grabbed the champagne she had abandoned from the window sill and downed it, the taste was dull and metallic. 

With one minute left before midnight Sammie grabbed another glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray, as someone shoved her hard in the shoulder as she walked back to her friends. They all smiled, laughed, and danced a long to “Too Tough to Die” by the Ramones it was a favorite of Sammie’s from their new album, Sammie took a sip of champagne and the countdown began.

“10…” Sammie took another sip,

“9…” and another large gulp, the smell of sweat, cheap floral perfume, makeup, and champagne overcame her senses.

“8…” She downed the rest of the glass, she could hear someone saying something it sounded like screaming and yelling, she desperately wanted it to stop.

“7…” “Sammie! Oh no, Sammie? Are you alright? Common stay with us!” she heard Patrick call out, he seemed so far away.

“6…5…4…” Sammie began to feel faint, everything was happening in slow motion.

“3…” the corners of her vision blackened.

“2…” The crowd seemed like a blurry, slowed down echo that was far away. 

“1…” She could feel herself falling and she didn’t know where too and why, and in that moment she wished she told her friends of her clairvoyance.

“Happy New Year!” she heard foggily, she faintly heard an unfamiliar female scream before everything went black as the nail polish adjoined on her fingers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammie wakes up with no recollection of the previous night.
> 
> Her parents come to speak with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the drug Hydroplexic Crementia is completely made up)

Tuesday, January 3rd, 1985 7:15am Manhattan, New York “Lower Manhattan Hospital”

“Samantha…Sammie…” Sammie felt someone rubbing her shoulder and groggily opened her eyes. All she saw was white she smelled medicine and wrinkled her nose a bit.

“What…..where am I? What happened? Is there any food?” She mumbled sleepily.

Sammie reached her arms above her head to find, to her displeasure, that there were IVs and tubes everywhere in her arms. She felt the top of her head feeling a large bump that passed a large wave of pain when she pressed on it she looked down at her arms which, besides the IV’s were covered with bandages. 

She couldn’t remember anything about what had happened, she only recalled being at a New Year’s party, drinking champagne, a lot of champagne, dancing to some Ramones songs, the countdown had happened and then everything had gone black. 

Sammie rubbed her eyes the leftover flex of eye makeup came off on her hands, she blinked a few times till her vision came into focus, sitting next to her bed where her parents; John Conway and Martha Wally.

“Mom…Dad…” Sammie yawned, “what happened? I don’t remember anything.” 

“Hydroplexic Cramentia, it’s a drug someone must have spiked your drink with it, it makes you feel extremely faint, blurred vision, and eventually it knocks you out a few minutes after consumed the usual side effects.” Martha Wally explained “Except it’s more towards clairvoyants.” she added in a low voice. 

“Sweetie, we were thinking you should tell your friends, at least tell Via but we think they’ll both understand.” John Conway said rubbing Sammie’s arm soothingly.

“Dad…What day is it?” Sammie said struggling to sit up, her back ached, she closed her eyes lightly, her parents exchanged worried glances.

“It’s January 3rd, 1985 sweetheart, you’ve been out for 3 days” said John Conway. Sammie’s eyes shot open.

“Why didn’t you tell me I’d been out for three days!”

“Sammie, we need you to talk to Captain Winston as soon as you leave because there’s something else that happened but we can’t tell you for legal purposes.” Martha Wally said.

“Listen, honey we understand you’re confused but your mother and I must be going now you may not see us for a while but we will do everything in our power to help you.” her father said.

“We love you Samantha, no matter what just know that.” Martha Wally said kissing Sammie’s forehead, John Conway followed suit, he looked up at the clock.

“Martha, we must be going, goodbye Samantha, and good luck.” Those were the last words they spoke to her directly before disappearing down the hall, she heard Martha Wally mutter to John Conway: 

“I think she's caught up between who she is and who she wants to be.” Sometimes Sammie would remember the story of how her mother and father had met, which was by chance when Martha was beginning on skis and had crashed into John and he had helped her down the hill. 

She also recalled how they always told her the story of how John had proposed to Martha on September 4th, of 1958 while it was raining in Central Park. In 1968 when The Beatles ‘White Album” had come out he sung her “Martha My Dear”, those moments where some of Sammie’s favorite memories. 

While in school Martha always told Sammie the same piece of advice when the other girls were ever mean to her; “Sammie, the two hardest things to ever acquire in life are true love and loyal friends, but I promise you that you will find them eventually.” Maybe one day she truly would.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammie and her friends have an intervention.

January 3rd, 1985 Manhattan, New York “Lower Manhattan Hospital” 8:30am 

Sammie’s parents had left her a bowl of the hospital cafeterias watery, and bleak chicken noodle soup, a glass of water and a “Doctor Who” cassette they had a nurse put into the hospital room TV. She was watching Peter Davison as the 5th Doctor and his companion save universes, defeat aliens, and other creatures, when around 8:30 her best friends walked in. 

Via was smiling her mega watt smile as always, her dark brown hair was in a teased ponytail her bright blue eyes twinkled, she was still wearing her name tag as she owned a boutique in Manhattan. 

Char on the other hand looked sheet white, she had dark purple bags underneath her blue red rimmed eyes; evidence that she had not slept in a while, her wavy blond hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, she was holding some coffee, she never drank coffee, normally she drank chai tea, she owned a pet store. She paused her show,

“Char! Via! Good too see you! Mind giving me some of that coffee? I could use a good ol’ ‘pick me up’” Char didn’t answer about the coffee and hugged it closer looking down. 

“Sammie! We’ve missed you!” exclaimed Via, diffusing the awkward silence by laughing, and walking up to her bed and awkwardly hugging her. 

“Char? Is there something so interesting about the dirty hospital floor? Common! I’ve been out for three days and you can’t even say hello. What the hell is your problem?” Sammie raised her hands in mock surrender, after a moment letting them fall to the itchy hospital sheets. Char started her bite on her gold painted thumb nail, a nervous habit she’d developed.

“Listen Sammie, here’s what is going on. Someone drugged your drink at my New Years Party and it had a much worse affect on you than it should have.” Sammie rolled her eyes.

“Char, I know what happened, I was there remember? Look where I am right now.” Sammie gestured to the space around her. Sammie could tell that Chars patience was beginning to waver, she began to turn red. Char took a deep breath.

“I can’t tell you anything else that happened for legal reasons, you're going to have to talk to Captain Winston but I need you to tell me everything that happened from start to finish.” Chars father was a lawyer, so Sammie proceeded to tell her friends that she started drinking at around 8pm when the party had started, she had seven glasses of champagne between 8-12 she went to the bathroom at 11:57 and left her glass on the ledge outside when she came out of the washroom she drank the abandoned champagne on the ledge because she wasn’t thinking, she had then grabbed another glass. 

“I remember hearing Patrick's voice asking me what was wrong, and then I heard a female voice scream before everything went black.” Char and Via looked at each other worriedly, Via’s happy expression faltered and she paled.

“Sammie… Someone we-“ Via began.

“Stop it Via you can’t tell her classified information,” Char snapped glaring at Via. “You’ll find out later when you stop by the precinct.”

“Char, it’s already in the papers you know.” Via squeaked nervously putting her head down.

“You guys what happened couldn’t have been that bad.” Sammie scratched her head, she thought about telling them of her clairvoyance.

“Sammie, Via and I were also wondering, why were you the only one who got knocked out?” Char began to play with a strand of hair.

“I honestly don’t know I can’t think right now okay? But I have something to tell you guys you can believe me or not I really don’t care but just promise you won’t tell a soul.” She looked mainly at Char as she explained. “I’m a clairvoyant, I have visions I can see things that are going to happen and sometimes things that have happened. Not a soul at the precinct can know about this.” Char and Via exchanged glances,

“We believe you Sammie, we wouldn’t doubt you.” Via said quietly.

“My temples were hurting because I was trying to have a vision and it wouldn’t come in I don’t know why, its never happened before. Via I think that Amelia-Jane is coming soon so you guys might want to leave, would you mind getting me a nurse I have to speak to Captain Winston Smith and Daniel Malcolm as soon as I get out of here.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammie's cousin Amelia-Jane comes for a visit. 
> 
> Sammie leaves the hospital.

January 3rd, 1985 Manhattan, New York “Lower Manhattan Hospital" 9:15am 

Sammie’s friends stayed for a little longer while they talked and caught up on different things like work and love lives which for Sammie was non existent. Via went to fetch Sammie’s nurse and they both returned to say goodbye.

“The nurse said she’d come in a little while. Bye Sammie! See you later!” Via called out, Char waved. A few minutes after her friends left, Amelia-Jane Elizabeth Wally walked in and she immediately gave Sammie a hug.

“Oh my dear Sam Sam I’ve missed you so much these past few days! I don’t have much time to catch up,” her voice was muffled by Sammie’s hair. Amelia-Jane was Australian and from her Mom’s side (her uncle Kevin’s daughter) they’d always been extremely close as children, she was two years older than Sammie. Amelia-Jane was 5ft9in and had tan skin with freckles, she had light blond hair with light brown streaks, she had light icy blue eyes, she had been a competitive swimmer as a child, and occasionally entered contests as an adult.

“Amy, you have to promise me you’ll try to help me find out as much stuff as you can, I know this is going to be a really long case.” Amy worked as a top journalist for the New York Times she was very sneaky and managed to, most of the time be her amicable self and help Sammie with her cases by hearing a few hidden details every once in awhile.

“Of course Sammie I’ll do what I can, though it may not be very much.” 

“That’s ok. Amy, who's arms would I run and fall into if I were drunk in a room with everyone I have ever loved?” Amelia-Jane laughed her sweet laugh,

“Probably mine Sammie!” they both began to crack up since Sammie got drunk much too often, even when they were younger sometimes she and Amelia-Jane would drink and smoke pot together, it all stopped when Amy went to college and Sammie continued on her drug path. “Please my dear never ever stop being odd in the most wondrous of ways,” Amy said.

Their moment of fun was ruined when her pager buzzed. “Oh dear that’ll be work I’m so sorry I gotta go Sammie I love you so much! Take care of yourself stop by, or contact me if you need anything.” Amy gave her one more tight hug kissing her cheek before leaving.

Sammie was anxious after Amelia-Jane left so she began to tug on the IV’s and tubes getting a bit impatient with the nurses punctuality. Her nurse walked in fifteen minutes later. She was medium height with long, straight, bright blonde hair, dark hazel eyes and a pretty, pearly white smile her lips were ruby red and she had on blue eyeshadow and a lot of eyeliner and powder. Even though she was attractive her over made face seemed a little out of place and she was wearing an unusually large amount of bright makeup… 

“Hello, Samantha is it? I’m Francine Dupont, I’ll be your nurse today and helping you out.” Sammie smiled, Francine seemed friendly enough she had a heavy British accent and a malicious twinkle to her eyes. 

“How are you feeling? Your friends said that you’re pretty eager to get home, I’ll do my best and get the Doctor in here to see you.” As Francine said this she began to unhook Sammie’s tubes and IV’s, she changed the bandages on her arms and fixed the other dressings from where Sammie had hit her head. She left the room and came back with a tall man with sandy brown hair, brown eyes and glasses.

“Hello Samantha!” he said cheerily. “I’m Doctor Peter Capri I’m just going to do a routine check up on you, and get you a prescription sheet to sign for some pain medicine. Nurse Francine will give it to you before you leave.” Sammie signed the sheet and gave it back. Doctor Capri then went on to check her vitals.

“Okay, Samantha.” he clapped his hands together. “Everything looks just fine don’t forget to sign out at the front desk before you leave. Take it easy alright. Call if you experience any sudden dizziness or the usual side effects.”

“Thanks Doctor Capri!” Sammie called out as the Doctor left, and Francine walked back in the room with her prescription, she handed it to Sammie.

“Okay dear you’re all set. Your parents left you an overnight bag when they stopped by, the ladies room is just down the hall to the right there’s some showers there to. Press the call button if you need anything.” Francine stood by Sammie’s bed as she attempted to swing her legs over the side of the bed and get up. She took five deep breaths and closed  
her eyes, the moment she was steady on her feet, Sammie felt a wave of dizziness and fell over a bit grabbing onto the bed. Francine held her steady,

“Easy dear easy, take it nice and slow.” Francine ended up helping Sammie all the way to the ladies room, she handed Sammie her “Vera Bradley” overnight bag and proceeded down the hall. 

“Thank you!” Sammie called out, but strangely the woman didn’t turn around to respond, and to Sammie’s eyes seemed to be walking faster. She figured it was just the bump on her head was making her delusional.

Once Sammie was inside the “ladies room” which was more like a large floral smelling room with bathroom stalls, blow dryers, combs, hair products, changing rooms, cheap wallpaper and showers. After Sammie had taken a scorching hot shower and changed from the itchy hospital nightgown into her favorite Ramones sweater, baggy jeans, and tattered black converse, she brushed her hair and blow dried it to the best of her ability. She dug through her bag for her tooth brush, and felt a piece of paper, pulling it out she  
noticed it was a note from her parents. It was written in lettering from a typewriter. 

Samantha,  
Dad and I both want you to go talk to Captain Winston as soon as you get out of the hospital. You, your friends and Daniel Malcolm both knew the victim and it’s very unfortunate on what her fate became. We can’t tell you anything because of legal reasons, but we wish you the best. Stay safe, and healthy, be careful Samantha in what you say and what you do. You know that Tony Fartuchi is fake so please don’t ever mention him to the authorities. They never found any evidence that it was actually him who did those murder sprees in the 70s. You won’t be hearing from us for a while. We also left your car in parking spot 5B. Take it easy with the drinking Sammie, and no we are not getting you the new Apple Macintosh, you can save for it yourself. Samantha please pay your bills on time.  
With much love,  
Mom & Dad

Sammie didn’t freak out when she read that she wouldn’t be hearing from her parents, they did that often; they took off without reason, she knew she would never be able to save for the newest invention which was something called a computer, it was like an electric typewriter and extremely expensive. She was very anxious to get to the precinct to find out what had happened and to get some coffee and food in her stomach. After brushing her teeth she left the washroom feeling fresh and steady, she saw Francine as she passed the front desk to sign out. She was on the phone, talking in a low voice, every so often she would glance at Sammie. Sammie quickly signed out and headed to the parking lot to parking spot 5B as fast as her body would carry her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammie has an encounter with Daniel Malcolm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grammar mistakes are mine, the shitty use of language and crap writing is all mine.

January 3rd, 1985 Manhattan, New York Parking Lot: “Lower Manhattan Hospital” 10:35am

Sammie nearly squealed with delight when she saw her car otherwise known as “Johnny” after Johnny Ramone. “Johnny” was a black Toyota Corolla convertible although the cover was not open since it was winter, she treasured that car and there wasn’t a single dent on him. Her car was one of her favorite places to sit and blast music, or smoke she loved the feeling of the wind ruffling her already naturally messy hair when she drove on the highways or through Times Square. 

“Johnny, goodness I’ve missed you.” Sammie got into her car and put her bag in the front seat, she turned on the heater and the radio to her favorite rock station which was playing “I’m Not Afraid of Life” by-of course The Ramones. Sammie put the key in the ignition and slowly backed out of her spot when suddenly out of nowhere a black Lamborghini sped past her nearly crashing into the rear end of her car, its tires screeched loudly and it sped away awfully fast for a parking lot speed. Sammie took five deep breaths calming herself and mentally remembered the license plate then continued backing out her spot. She felt a vision, she put her car in park and closed her eyes. She saw the scene from the New 

Years party re-playing it ended quickly with her passing out and hearing the ‘almost too familiar’ female scream. She blinked a few times and snapped out of her reverie knowing that the vision was going to come in handy somehow. Sammie wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans and she put her car back in drive and drove out of the lot, being extra cautious. 

Eventually, she got out onto the snow covered streets of Manhattan she put down her sun visor and she drove to the nearest McDonald's and got some chicken nuggets, large fries with a large cola. At the red light Sammie put on her black winter coat which was squashed in her open bag in the front seat. Sammie drove to the precinct and parked in the lot nearby, she grabbed her car keys from the starter and she grabbed her pager and put it in her right pocket with her small purse and briefcase over her shoulder and gloves in the other pocket. Sammie grabbed her hat and exited her car putting two dimes in the meter as she usually did, she ran inside running by Karen the desk sergeant. 

“Careful there Sammie, it’s slippery!” Karen called out. Sammie was flustered and panting a bit by the time she had reached Captain Winston Smith's office, it had his desk and file cabinets, she barged in, practically slipping and falling and regretted her choice the minute she did so. 

“Captain! Oh my goodness! Are you alright?” The Captain looked absolutely miserable, if that was even a word to describe it. He had grey stubble along his face when he was usually freshly shaven, he had dark purple bags under his sunken in blue eyes, they were extremely red rimmed and puffy all around, his grey hair looked more greasy than usual. 

He look increasingly older and it had only been five days since Sammie had seen him last, having New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day off and being out for three days. The Captain rubbed his hands over his stubbly face,

“Please Samantha sit down, Daniel will be back shortly.” Sammie had the sudden ‘fight or flight’ sensation to get up and leave while she still could do so. Daniel Malcolm, looking handsome and polished as always walked in a few moments later holding two coffees.

“Oh, Samantha sorry I didn’t get you a coffee didn’t realize you were here.” Daniel said snakily. Sammie was in such a gaze that her flowered mind ran right over his rude tone. 

“What? Sorry, were you talking to me? I don’t want any coffee.” she said. Sammie turned crimson and fiddled with her sweaty hands. The cold hard truth be told Sammie always had a huge crush on Daniel Malcolm as much as he annoyed her sometimes, though he was her neighbor and lived in the brownstone down the block from her apartment. He was tall and had the most beautiful, deep, ocean blue eyes that she often found herself lost in. 

Daniel Malcolm was extremely handsome in Sammie’s opinion he slicked his light brown hair back, he wore different colored converse most of the days, he had a brown fedora, spectacles, and a tan colored trench coat, his smile (when he did smile) lit up the entire room, he had flawless tan skin. 

Sometimes in the summer time he’d come back from his run and stretch putting his arms up, Sammie could see some of his abdominal muscles. Char and Via had often told her that she was over obsessed with him. 

Sammie knew he liked to drink whiskey when he was stressed or when a case was taking longer than usual, she often looked out the window and usually saw him smoking, usually he’d be pacing the block, she’d stare at his perfect rear end and long legs. 

She briefly remembered a recent encounter when she found out that he smoked. November 3rd, 1984. 

Sammie had been walking down her block on her to way the the precinct to deliver some case files and reports to Captain Winston. Perhaps if she got lucky she’d maybe get the chance to look over them with Daniel Malcolm. Just as she turned the corner by the precinct she crashed full on into a seemingly, grouchy looking Daniel, he was smoking.   
“Samantha,” he gave her a curt nod and kept walking.

“Oh, uh, Daniel! I didn’t know that you smoked.” Sammie had turned a very deep crimson and laughed nervously twirling a curl around her finger. He didn’t turn around or even acknowledge that she had said anything. Sammie had sighed and he shoulders had slumped in defeat. (end flashback) January 3rd, 1985. 

“Conway?! Hello? Do you need to go back to the hospital?” Sammie snapped out of her reverie and looked up at Captain Winston, he looked more stressed than before and it seemed that there were more grey hairs on his head. 

“What? No! Of course not! I was just thinking…I’ll be on track.” she said quickly.

“Well unless it has to do with the case save any thoughts for later Samantha.” Daniel Malcolm snapped.  
Captain Winston cleared his throat and dropped a manilla case folder on his desk, he sighed.

“So, as you may or may not have heard, my daughter Jamie went missing…” he said gruffly, he cleared his throat again and sniffled. Sammie could tell he was trying not to cry.

“I didn’t know Captain I’m so sorry.” Sammie muttered. A light bulb suddenly went off in Sammie’s head she could faintly remember the unfamiliar female scream from the New Years party, perhaps it had been Jamie. She couldn’t say anything or concentrate on the vision without giving away her clairvoyance so she pretended not to know. Captain Winston looked up,

“I know you were in the hospital Samantha, I talked to your friends and parents. I asked them not to say anything for the sake of my privacy and her twin sister Joan’s privacy. I released a statement to the press yesterday.” The Captain’s wife had passed away a few years prior due to heart failure, Sammie was about to reply, but before she could say anything Daniel intervened. She found herself staring at him in awe and admiration like a lost puppy. 

“Do you know where Jamie was before she went missing?” he asked sweetly.

“I believe she was at Samantha’s friend; Charlotte Vincent’s New Years party.” the Captain replied solemnly. Daniel scowled and glared at Sammie as though it was her fault for the Captains sorrow. Sammie shrunk back in her chair and thought about another recent encounter with Daniel Malcolm. (Flashback December 10th, 1984) Sammie had been leaving her apartment when she once again bumped into the one and only Daniel Malcolm. 

He pushed by her, keeping he head down with his fedora covering his face and kept on walking. Sammie blinked a few times and veered around realizing he hadn't even acknowledged her. Sammie saw him heading for the second telephone booth on the opposite end of her block on the corner, she didn't use that one often but she saw him use it a lot since he lived in the apartment near it. 

Daniel was holding his pager, she saw him enter the booth, she hid against the wall under one of the neighboring apartment entrances. Daniel had left the telephone booth door open and was talking loud enough to the point where she could hear snippets of what he was saying. He wasn’t talking but, more or less yelling, the conversation went like this. 

“Frankie, my darling I’m so sorry I have to cancel I have a very serious case and some private side cases that have to be dealt with now…No!…No!…Of course!…I know that you transferred here so we could be together…I’m sorry I didn’t know that it was your only day shift for a while…Of course my sweet I’ll make it up to you…I love you!….See you soon!” Sammie’s face had fallen to her stomach she backed away from her hiding spot and ran back down the block to her apartment. 

She went inside and cried herself to sleep, knowing she wouldn’t like this “Frankie” person if she ever met her even if she didn’t know her. Sammie went to the bathroom and stared at her reflection running her hands over her face ‘he’ll never love me’ she thought gloomily. 

She went to her TV and put in a “Doctor Who” cassette and sat down with a bowl of goldfish. (End flashback) Sammie sat up from her daze and was about to mention that she hadn’t seen Jamie at all except when she had arrived when suddenly, Daniel’s pager buzzed, he gave a sympathetic glance to the Captain before gesturing to the door and running out of the room. 

“Sammie, I need you to take some of these case files about Jamie and if you can try to solve some of these smaller side cases that would be wonderful.” he looked at Sammie dead in the eyes and she had to will herself to not look away.

“Why are you asking me to help you? I’m no detective.”

“I need as many people helping me. All I ask is if you could please help me find my baby girl, before it’s too late.” Sammie smiled sympathetically and patted his hand. 

“You’re free to go, if you could get Jamie’s files started and I’ll try to get a hold of Joan that’d be wonderful if she could come down, I’ll give you her number in case you guys want to talk and piece it all together..” Sammie grabbed her stuff, (nearly falling over as she did so) including Jamie’s case files and Joan’s phone number so she could call. She left the precinct and went outside, unlocked “Johnny” and got inside turning on the ignition, radio, and heating and she drove off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for this trash lol.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick Gunnery gives Sammie a call, she reflects on their friendship. 
> 
> Sammie receives a note.

January 3rd, 1985 Manhattan, New York (Sammie’s Apartment) 1:50pm

Sammie drove to the grocery store with what money she had to restock her fridge, freezer and pantry with frozen goods, fruits, vegetables, (not that she ate them) and snacks. She went to her apartment up a flight of stairs to the lobby, she grabbed her mail, went up another flight of stairs to her apartment 2B. Sammie unlocked the door and put her mail on the table she then went to record “Nightmare On Elm Street” on her VCR. 

She went to her desk with a bowl of goldfish, and began working on a new budget and checking register when all of the sudden her pager buzzed. She went outside to the telephone booth on her corner of the block she closed the booth door, put a coin in and waited.  
“Hello, this is Samantha speaking.”

“Hi Sammie! ’Tis be Patrick.’” Sammie sighed and peeked outside her telephone booth to see Daniel Malcolm going to the other one. Sammie almost dropped the phone in surprise. “Sammie?? Hello?! Earth to Sammie?”

“Hi Pat, I’m here what’s going on?” she asked, pulling the phone away from her ear as he was yelling into it loudly, feeling a little peeved that he hadn’t called her home phone, as her pager was really only for work hours or when someone could not reach her at home.

“Well…..” Sammie wasn't listening to what Patrick was rambling on about, she was getting distracted by Daniel Malcolm in the booth down the block. Sammie nodded her head at what he was saying as though he was there with her.

“Sammie? Are you even listening?”

“What?” she snapped, “I’m sorry I’m a bit pre-occupied I’m staring at Daniel Malcolm through the phone booth right now. Whatever you wanted to call me for, make it quick.” 

“Firstly, don’t waste your time on some ass hole like Daniel Malcolm.” She could tell he was starting to get a bit riled up and could feel him rolling his eyes through the phone with a large jar of peanut butter filled pretzels in his arms. “Secondly, the reason I called is because I wanted to know if you wanted to go to a scary movie tonight because I know you love those.” 

Sammie sighed, she knew he was right but couldn’t find it in herself to make her heart and her brain agree. She looked out the phone booth one last time and her heart plummeted down to her stomach when she saw Daniel Malcolm leave.

“Sure, I’ll go with you to a movie, I’ll just finish my case files tomorrow” Sammie knew she’d be looking at them that night but didn’t tell Patrick, so as to not worry him. 

“Wait Sammie you’re not a detective, you’re just making up excuses!” Sammie rolled her eyes.

“The Captain needs help with some things and we don’t have that many people at the precinct. Patrick just be lucky that I’m agreeing to go with you.”

“Yay! Alright. So I’ll pick you up at 7, see you then!” 

“Bye!” She said before scowling and reattaching the phone. Sammie looked both ways outside the phone booth before exiting, seeing that Daniel Malcolm was no longer there. She went back inside her apartment. 

Sammie’s apartment was small, but roomy, Jamie’s case files laid in a pile on her desk. She had a typewriter and a fireplace, since she preferred to pay for gas rather than heating. She had dark wood bookshelves with loads of books, next to the bookshelves she had her red rocking chair. On the floor next to it she had her record player and a crate with over 120 records, she almost always had a record playing to ease away the eerie silence. 

She had her couch with a coffee table and her TV (with a VCR). Sammie had a small kitchen that did the job, her bedroom which was painted dark blue, and had band posters all over the walls and clothes on the hardwood floor. The room was spotless in the sense of cleanliness. 

She also had her bathroom which was nothing special just a sink, toilet, and a bath with the shower build in. Sammie had a radio in her living room which she used to listen to the nightly superhero stories, they helped her fall asleep, she also used it to listen to the news every morning and every night. 

Sammie put her Pink Floyd “The Wall” record on and danced around a bit she picked up her bowl of goldfish and began to put one in her mouth when a bright colored note on the top of her mail pile caught her eye. She jogged to the coffee table and snatched it, her eyes widened at what she read. 

“Poor little Jamie Smith what has come of her?  
She didn’t want to wear the ring so we had to force her.  
Poor little Jamie Smith maybe she lost her head.  
Poor little Jamie Smith, whoopsie now she's dead.”

Sammie, shivered there was no signature she crumpled, then threw the paper on the floor squashing it with her foot for good measure. She wanted to curl up in her bed at the thought that Tony Fartuchi might be roaming around in New York, assuming that it was him who killed Jamie Smith. He scared her so much, but she had known the risks involving him while working at the precinct. 

Sammie carefully plucked the note from the floor with her index finger and thumb and threw it away in her kitchen trash. To clear her head, as she often had to, Sammie bundled up and went for a long run, she returned 4 hours later feeling relaxed and by then it was 5:10. 

She sprinted up the two flights of stairs to her apartment and rushed to take a shower almost forgetting about her plans with Patrick. After taking a scorching hot shower, standing under the rainfall till her hands pruned, Sammie got out, dried off, fixed up her curls, got dressed, did her makeup, and grabbed her purse. She grabbed her jacket off the couch, and left her apartment double checking that she locked her door behind her and went to her usual parking spot. 

Sammie got in “Johnny” and drove to the “AMC Theatre” in Manhattan that she and Patrick often went to. Upon arriving and parking in the crowded parking lot she ran through the cold and snow and went inside she bought her ticket and saw Patrick wave to her by the snacks counter, he was grinning from ear to ear like the Cheshire Cat. 

“Hey Pat!” she gave him an awkward side hug when he went in to hug her around her chest, after far too long for a hug to be lasting she stepped away.

“Hi Sammie! I got my ticket and snacks, I’ll wait over here.” he stepped out of the way and Sammie got some “Junior Mints” a small RC and a small buttery popcorn. Sammie and Patrick made their way over to theatre 3 he put his arm around her while they were walking to find some seats and she shifted away. 

Once they found their seats and the movie began five minutes later, she felt a heavy uncomfortable weight on her shoulders, biting into a Junior Mint and putting the popcorn box between her legs she took her free hand and pushed his arm off of her shoulders shifting away his arm always felt like an elephant trunk. 

They weren’t a couple and it bothered her more than she could admit when he did affectionate stuff of the kind, sometimes he would aggressively grab her wrist and not let go when she told him to he ended up leaving a purple bruise, she had never thought much of it. 

Patrick Gunnery was a bit on the chubby side but standing at 6ft 2in his height made up for it, he had dark blond hair and he loved to talk, which often times turned into rambling and immature nonsense. He was a mechanic, he loved cars, TV, and chemistry he sometimes bragged about how intelligent he was. He was also overly self centered. Patrick was loud and the type to embarrass, he had embarrassed Sammie many times, she looked over at him but he was staring at the movie screen with intent. 

Sammie winced as she thought of the time that he came over to her apartment for dinner, only to profess his love for her this was during a time when her feeling for him were faltering, he had begun to grab her wrist more often with more aggression, he also began touching her under and above her knee caps and pulling her hair she never told Char, Via, Amelia-Jane, the Captain or her parents, knowing that they would be worried. 

(Flashback: October 5th, 1984 Sammie’s Apartment Manhattan, New York) Patrick walked in with a dish of lasagna although, Sammie had told him profusely that she was cooking. She had tried to make the ambiance as comfortable and casual as possible setting the coffee table up with some card games, plates, and silverware. Sammie didn’t set her breakfast table or any other table so she could possibly convey the message to Patrick that she had absolutely no interest in pursuing a relationship with him. 

“Thanks for the lasagna Pat, you really didn’t have to.” she said through her teeth she gave him a weak smile.

“It's alright, I wanted to.” he said sitting on the couch. “Do you need help with anything?”

“No not really at the moment.” Sammie said retreating to the kitchen area, she wiped her sweaty palms on her pink apron with smiling cupcakes on it. She smelled something   
burning, she rapidly opened the oven to find her chicken pot pie (recipe compliments of Martha Wally) blackened and burnt. 

“Shit,” she said loudly, taking the dish out of the oven and tossing it in the trash. Sammie took Patrick’s lasagna from the island and put it on the coffee table,

“Well, I guess we’re going to be eating your lasagna after all.” she grumbled.

She opened the fridge and grabbed the bottle of red wine she’d saved for the occasion to calm her down a bit. Patrick didn’t drink, she grabbed a bottle of apple juice from the fridge and two glasses, she brought everything out to the coffee table and poured Patrick a glass of juice and herself a glass of wine. 

Sammie took a large gulp of wine before pivoting on her heel and returning to the kitchen to put the chocolate chip cookies she had made into the oven, she set her timer for fifteen minutes. 

“I’m going to order Chinese from the place down the block, I don’t think that’s going to be enough food.” Sammie pointed at the lasagna and grabbed her winter gear, bundling up. She used her landline to call in the usual order (orange chicken, egg rolls, fried rice, and fortune cookies) she put on her “Sorel” boots since it was cold and rainy and grabbed her keys. 

“Bye! I’ll be back!” she rushed out the door. When Sammie had come back Patrick was up pacing the room, which usually meant that something was coming that he was anxious about.

“Sammie, please sit down.” he said gruffly and gestured to the couch. Sammie walked a few paces into the living room not caring about the wet tracks her boots were making she took off her winter gear and put the bag of Chinese food on the coffee table before sitting down on the couch. She was getting a bit nervous and her palms started to sweat.

“What is it Patrick?” he was still pacing the space in front of the coffee table. “Sit down Patrick! You’re worrying me tell me what’s wrong right now!” But Patrick didn’t sit down instead, he grabbed his coat and outwear and began to walk towards the front door he turned around at the last moment and yelled his voice and hands shaking:

“Samantha Conway, I love you!” (end flashback)

Sammie snapped back to the present and stuffed some popcorn into her mouth to diffuse the feeling of a rock sitting in her stomach, the Ghostbusters were now chasing some sort of creature. Sammie tucked her feet underneath her and began to doze off, before she knew it the bright lights were illuminating the theatre and the movie was over. 

Sammie wiped the drool off her chin and had the strong urge to get out as quickly as possible. 

“Uh, I have to go Pat but thanks for taking me it’s nice to have a break every once in awhile.” She smiled a small forced smile.

“Anytime! I’m always here.” He went over by her ear and whispered “Oh and good luck with the Jamie Smith case I know you'll find her.” Sammie was bundling back up,

“I sure hope so.” She muttered heading for the door going to “Johnny” and driving away.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammie looks for more leads in the Jamie Smith case. Daniel Malcolm invites her to the bar.

Friday, February 1st 1985 Manhattan, New York (Precinct) 9:00am 

Nearly a month had passed since the disappearance of Jamie Smith. There had been absolutely no leads on where her body was (presuming that she was deceased) and Sammie was starting to think that Tony Fartuchi was most definitely involved especially after the note incident. 

She decided to leave it at that in her head knowing that nobody at the precinct would never believe her even if she had turned in the note, there was no signature on it after all. She had a conversation with Amelia-Jane about Tony and she agreed with Sammie’s theory that he had done something though there was no evidence as usual to prove it. 

Sammie knew that the Captain had called his other daughter, Jamie’s fraternal twin named Joan to see if she could come down from Pennsylvania and give information. The Captain told Sammie that Joan and Jamie were very close and told each other everything his theory was that possibly Jamie had told Joan about something going on before her disappearance. 

Unfortunately, as the Captain had told Sammie over a phone call (an hour after Sammie had returned from the movies with Patrick) that Joan would not be able to make the drive down to Manhattan for another month as she was busy with some cases herself. Joan's prestigious law firm wouldn’t let her take off work even if it was for the disappearance of her twin sister. Joan was in the research portion of her training. 

That day Joan called the precinct to say that she was on her way down, her long term boyfriend Matthew was driving her as she hadn’t slept in over a week in order to get the day's’ off of work. They were going to stay at the Saint-Regis hotel. Sammie sat down at her desk and looked at the case files for the millionth time in the past month to see if there was something she had missed. 

The only vision she had been having was the same one from the New Years Party which got her absolutely nowhere. When Sammie confronted the Captain about it the week before he had told her something along the lines of:

“I don’t want you to stress yourself out over this I might need more of your help when Joan comes to town please focus on what I’m giving you and don’t end up in the hospital again.” Sammie had not known what to say but she did as she was told and while at home with a bottle of vodka at her side she looked through Jamie's case files and wondered if her parents or friends had tipped off the Captain about how she got when she was extremely tired. 

She had also heard Karen the desk sergeant say that Daniel Malcolm looked “stressed” which was kind of odd because he always looked golden and godly like, Sammie had sat in the car for twenty minutes contemplating what the hell Karen was going on about. 

To her Daniel still looked handsome and posh anything but stressed, even if he was mentally stressed out Daniel Malcolm certainly didn't show any signs of it. Sammie opened Jamie’s case file and looked through there were some pictures on the top, Jamie had above the shoulder length wavy platinum blonde hair, porcelain skin with freckles, big round green eyes, and pearly white teeth she wore a lot of eyeliner in the photo and her smile took up half of her face, her pearly white teeth shone. Her case files read:

Name: Jamie Lou Smith  
Date of Birth: April 27th, 1962  
Age: 23  
Height: 5”2  
Weight: 110 lbs  
Parents: Meg Smith (deceased) Winston Smith   
Eye Color: Green  
Hair Color: Blonde   
LAST SEEN: DECEMBER 31ST, 1984   
TIME: possibly around midnight

Suddenly a light bulb went on in Sammie’s head she remembered sometimes some of the other detectives talking about checking the victim’s bank account for any sort of activity. Sammie dropped her pencil back on her desk, closed the case files and went next door to Captain Winston Smiths office, she knocked.

“Captain?” he looked up from a file and took off his reading glasses, “Sorry to be disturbing you, but I was wondering if it would be possible for me to get access to Jamie’s bank account. I’d like to check and see if there was any sort of activity.”

“That’s a very good idea Samantha, I will give both you and Joan any sort of information that you’ll need. I’ll have her meet you at the bank after she comes here, don’t forget a badge.” He gave her a piece of notebook paper with information about Jamie’s account on it. 

Sammie nodded and left the Captain’s office going to her desk to grab her coat, hat, scarf, purse and briefcase. She double checked that she had a badge assuming Joan would get one when she stopped by. Sammie made her way out of the precinct when she was outside by “Johnny” she bumped into Daniel Malcolm.

“Where do you think you’re going Samantha?” he sneered.

“I’m going t-t-to t-the b-bank.” she stuttered beginning to walk away, her face felt hot thought it was below freezing outside. Sammie kept on walking she turned around and saw that Daniel Malcolm was still standing in the same spot gawking at her, she wondered if what she said had piqued his interest.

“Why is that Samantha? As I’ve said before, you’re only the girl that gets coffee.”

“I am meeting with Joan Smith, Jamie’s twin to discuss and see if there was an strange activity on her bank account.” her expression changed. “You know you’re welcome to come with, you don’t have to be a jerk all the time.” She snapped feeling sudden empowerment. His eyes seemed to widen at being stood up by a female, and Samantha being that female she felt emboldened. Daniel’s snotty attitude returned moments later.

“No, I’m alright I’ve got more important things to take care of.” He said unrepentant. With a flick of his ugly beet-purple scarf over his neck he sauntered away to a nearby telephone booth with his perfectly sloped nose in the air. ‘Probably to talk to stupid perfect Frankie’ Sammie thought deciding to eavesdrop, going around the corner quickly she figured that Joan probably wouldn’t be at the bank immediately a few minutes of eavesdropping couldn’t hurt. She still didn’t understand why she liked him when he was so rude to her. 

Sammie wished she could just like Patrick who was annoying as hell at times and rude, but not necessarily towards her. She peeked around the corner noticing that the door was closed completely, whereas the other times she’d spied on him the door was always opened a crack. Sammie didn’t hear any of his conversation and walked away to “Johnny” to go to the bank. 

Pulling out of her parking spot she noticed the black Lamborghini from the hospital parking lot, and that it was parked a few spots away from her, she remembered that the license plate was the same one as the car in the parking lot. 

Sammie shuddered and began to drive away when she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of the telephone booth door slamming, alarmed she waited a moment before pulling over into a different spot by the booth. Daniel Malcolm walked over to her car looking defeat and flustered, he banged on the window, Sammie rolled the window down.

“Samantha? Sorry I’ve been so mean to you want to go to the bar with me to blow off steam?” Sammie noticed a few things, one he sounded unrepentant as he said this, he also sounded drunk and unhappy. She didn’t think before she responded,

“Yeah! Sure! Where and what time?” she sounded embarrassingly cheerful the empowerment from before, gone.

“Uh just be at the bar that all of us from the precinct go to at eight I’m not picking you up.” Sammie frowned,

“We live down the block from each other…” Sammie replied.

“Oh goodness…I never knew that I gotta go cya later!” he said passing over her comment, shoving by her and quickly walking away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammie and Joan Smith go to the bank and to Jamie's bakery.

February 1st, 1985 Manhattan, New York (Harris Bank) 2:00pm 

Getting distracted for a few hours finally, Sammie parked in the Harris Bank parking lot and proceeded inside. She grabbed a cookie and a cup of fruit punch from the munchies table and walked around, she put the snacks down when she spotted a tall woman with short bright red hair, when the woman turned around Sammie immediately recognized her to be none other than Joan Smith. 

Though she and Jamie didn’t look a whole lot a like, Joan and Captain Winston looked very much alike. Joan had big piercing blue eyes but her and Jamie both shared similar facial features, though Joan was much taller. 

“Hi you’re Joan Smith right? I’m Sammie Wally Conway, I’m so sorry about what has happened to Jamie.” Joan looked down for a moment before enveloping Sammie in an embrace, when she pulled away she looked like a withered flower with swollen eyes, tear stained cheeks, frizzy, greasy hair and sagging shoulders. 

“I’m sorry I’m just so sad and worried about Jamie I miss her so much, I’ve been so into my work lately that we didn’t get much of a chance to hang out…” her voice cracked and she began to cry. Sammie hugged her and rubbed circles around her back calming her down.

“It’s all going to be alright.” Sammie whispered, though she didn’t truly know if it was going to be alright. There was still no sign of Jamie’s body and it had been a month already. The duo walked up to the desk with an older man,

“Yes ladies how may I help you?” Joan was still crying,

“I’m from the NYPD” Sammie said showing her badge, “I need to get into Jamie-Louise Smith’s bank account she went missing on the thirty first of December.” The man looked solemn his face fell,

“Alright.” he said quietly beginning to type on the computer, Sammie gave him some of Jamie’s credentials that the Captain had given her.

“Thank you for being here.” Joan whispered “I don’t think I would be able to do this by myself.” she sniffled. Sammie handed her a packet of tissues that she kept in her coat pocket, the man looked up and turned the computer to face them.

“As you can see here Ms. Smith was withdrawing nine thousand dollars every three months, if she had been withdrawing ten thousand then it would be registered as a fraud. Do you   
know why she was withdrawing such a large sum of money?” the man rubbed his eyes behind his glasses.

“That’s just what I was going to ask.” Sammie muttered, she looked at Joan “Did you know anything about this?”

“No I had no idea that she was doing this or why she would ever have to. Jamie was an extremely successful baker her business was thriving. At least that’s what she told me the last time we spoke which was around the night she went missing.”

“Joan, do you know if anyone took over Jamie’s business after she went missing, or if she entitled the business to anyone?”

“I don’t know quite frankly, she wasn’t going to give it to me because she knew that I was busy with work.”

“We have to go to her bakery. Common! Thank you Mister!” she grabbed Joan’s hand and they began to jog towards their respective cars. 

"Why exactly are we running?" Joan whined struggling to catch up in her heels.

“Joan, you must understand my heart always swings back and forth between the need for routine and the urge to run” Joan shrugged.  
Before Sammie got inside her car she asked.

“Where is it located?” 

“It’s in the city just follow me.” Joan said before getting in her car. Sammie followed Joan to Jamie’s bakery. They both parked on the side of the street and went to the door, Sammie pulled on it, Joan got out of her car, on the door it said ‘CLOSED’.

“Joan! It looks like it’s locked!” she began to push her body against it, she grunted, “If-I-could-just—get-it-open.” The door swung open and the smell of mold and bread   
overcame her senses, her breath rose in the frosty air,

“Goodness it reeks!” Joan exclaimed, plugging her nose. Sammie did the same and turned on the flashlight she had grabbed from her work bag there were bags of baking ingredients all over the floor she heard a cracking type noise and turned around and shined her flashlight on the floor.

“It’s glass from a vanilla bottle or something.” 

“Sammie-uh my father said that you aren’t a detective-” Sammie cut her off.

“We can’t get any of our DNA on this stuff, I’m not calling for back up until I’ve snooped around a bit.” Joan gave her a nervous look and kept her distance.   
Sammie shined the flashlight on Joan who looked pale aside from the light, Sammie occasionally heard her sniffle. They both walked around stepping on more glass Sammie shined the flashlight all around the floor she spotted some sort of dried brown spot in the shape of a footprint.

“Joan! Take a look at this.” She pointed to the floor “there’s a lot of these marks I think they’re bloody footprints.”

“Oh no…Sammie what if they’re Jamie’s?” She began to wail and sob uncontrollably. Sammie couldn’t do much to comfort her, she was going nuts herself.

“Please be quiet, I’m going to call for backup I think I’m onto something.” Joan began to back up, blowing her nose on a tissue.

“Get a real detective down here ok? You’re tampering with possible evidence. I don’t think I can stay any longer.”

“No, Joan please don’t leave I don’t want you going out there, I think we might’ve been followed.” Sammie could see Joan rolling her eyes when the sunlight shined through the window.

“If we were being followed then why haven’t they showed themselves?” A moment after she said that they heard a glass shatter and the footsteps along the floor.

“I’m starting to wish I had called for backup.” Sammie squeaked. At that horrible moment her pager decided to buzz, she grabbed Joan’s hand and gave it a squeeze as a motion to ‘get out.’ They both crept as silently as they could out the jammed door and sprinted carefully on the ice and snow to a nearby phone booth. Sammie picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Conway? What’s going on? Did you find anything with Jamie’s bank account?”

“Yes, we did and we found her bakery.”

“Conway…Don’t go snooping without backup you know better than that and whatever you heard it was just a homeless man. What did you find with Jamie’s bank account?” Sammie knew the Captain was right, she knew exactly what he was talking about even though at the time there were other officers there, they both knew the situation could have been avoided.

“She was withdrawing nine-thousand dollars every three months, if she had been withdrawing ten-thousand, it would’ve been reported as a fraud.” She heard the Captain sigh,

“Oh dear me, what was Jamie thinking.” The Captain and Sammie talked for a few more minutes, she gave him the address and put him on the phone with Joan, after a while she hung up the phone.

“He said that he’s sending backup. I told you we shouldn’t have snooped, he sounded angry.”  
The sound of sirens blaring snapped Sammie’s gaze over to the street where she saw the backup officers going inside the bakery to search and setting up ‘crime scene’ tape.

“I’m so sorry Sammie, I’m uh going to go talk to my father.” Joan awkwardly left, and Sammie felt ever so slightly guiltier about Jamie’s disappearance.


	9. Chapter 9

February 1st, 1985 Manhattan, New York 4:00pm The Saint Regis Hotel

“Samantha, you can take the rest of the day. Get some rest, review these files, if we find anything we’ll tell you tomorrow.” The Captain surprisingly patted her shoulder. Sammie reeled around and saw Daniel Malcolm talking to some of the other officers, she sighed and headed to her car on the curb, she remembered that she had her ‘date’ with Daniel in a few hours and dreaded it. 

She drove to her apartment and went inside, after putting on a fire, a Sammy Davis Jr. record, taking a hot shower and making a hot cup of coffee she sat down on the couch and looked through all of the case files. Sammie’s landline rang shrilly throughout her apartment she got up from the couch,

“Hi Sammie?” said a frightened sounding female voice.

“Speaking?”

“This is Joan Smith from earlier, I’m uh back at my hotel room it’s uh room 705 and uh 'Maxwell’s Silver Hammer' was playing on the record player I can’t turn it off either it just plays over and over again on a loop, I haven’t been here for hours and Matthew drove upstate to see his sister for a few days, I know this sounds weird but the lyrics kinda point to the fact that someone may want to murder me. I also might have a lead on what happened to Jamie.” 

Sammie could hear the panic in her voice, it sounded like something had hit a hard surface with a ‘bang.’ She could hear another female in the room with a strikingly familiar British accent.

“Okay, Joan I need you to stay as calm as you can, I’m coming right now write down the lyrics if possible there might be some sort of message and honestly I can’t remember those specific lyrics on the top of my head, try to locate some sort of mechanism you can defend yourself with.” Sammie was walking around with the landline, attempting to bundle up she unlocked her safe a grabbed her loaded gun, her unloaded gun was underneath the seat in her car.

“Just call the police you don’t have to come down. O-o-o-k-kay?” Joan’s voice was excruciatingly shaky. She hung up and managed to grab her keys and hat before she ran out the door started ‘Johnny’ and sped off. There was a lot of traffic getting to the area of New York where the famous St. Regis hotel stood. 

At a red light she began to have a vision of a woman getting shot, she couldn’t tell if it was Joan, it was far too blurry and she wasn’t focused. When she arrived, Sammie gave her car to the valet in front and quickly flashed her badge that she had received for the bank trip to both him and the door man on the way inside. 

She sprinted over to the back by the elevator opened the door that led to the stairs and ran up the seven flights of stairs. Sammie could hear screaming from where she was standing in the hallway. She whipped her gun that she grabbed from under her car seat out of her jacket.

“SOMEONE! HELP ME!” she heard, recognizing Joan’s voice. She could hear “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” playing on full blast along with Joan’s ear piercing shrieks and something that sounded like gun shots. 

Joan was quizzical, studied pataphysical  
Science in the home  
Late nights all alone with a test-tube oh oh oh oh  
Maxwell Edison majoring in medicine  
Calls her on the phone  
Can I take you out to the pictures, Joan?  
But as she's getting ready to go  
A knock comes on the door

Bang, bang, Maxwell's silver hammer  
Came down upon her head  
Bang, bang, Maxwell's silver hammer  
Made sure that she was dead…

Sammie attempted to open the door to no avail,

“Joan please open the door.” She heard nothing, no screaming at all. She kicked the door as hard as she could and it swung open, she dropped the gun and was immediately overcome with the horrible scent of blood she covered her mouth with her hands. 

Joan lay on the floor, dead, in a pool of her own blood that was leaking from a wound in her head, her blue eyes were wide open and her arms lay aghast, it seemed as though there had been a struggle as there was blood in some spots on the walls. 

Sammie walked over to the hotel room phone and dialed the precinct, Karen the desk sergeant answered since Sammie was in shock and was not able to speak to Captain Winston.  
“Hello this is the NYPD, how may I help you?” For a moment Sammie forgot she was on the phone. “Hello? Are you there?” Karen said.

“Karen…this is Sammie, I’m at the St. Regis hotel Joan Smith is dead.” her voice shook she put a trembling hand over her mouth, trying not to throw up at the metallic smell of blood.

“Oh dear Sammie, I’m sending backup right now.” Sammie hung up the phone and walked around the room trying to find a murder weapon, there was nothing she knew there would have to be surveillance footage she knew she had heard something like a gun. She felt worse by the minute she was not going to be able to find out why Jamie Smith had been withdrawing nine thousand dollars every three months from her bank account.

“This is the NYPD keep your hands up where I can see them!”

“It’s just me.” Sammie replied. Arnold, one of the officers put his gun down and motioned the others to do the same. 

“Please explain what happened Samantha.” Arnold gestured to the scene in front of them as the paramedics, forensic officers, and photographers did their jobs, someone managed to get the record player to stop playing the song.

“The Captain sent me here to talk to Joan, we thought we had something, well it was more her she thought she had a lead on what may have happened to Jamie. She called me as I was leaving my apartment and said that “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” by the Beatles was playing over and over. I also heard some gunshots, but I couldn’t find any sort of murder weapon.”

Sammie picked up a piece of paper with blood stains by the phone, it had the lyrics scribbled she handed it to Arnold.

“She thought this was important because in the song it talks about a girl named Joan who eventually gets killed, well she wasn’t exactly wrong. We should check out the room more closely.” Sammie gave a weak chuckle.

“Alright, there must be other evidence, maybe a murder weapon or maybe some DNA.” Arnold said beginning to look around the hotel room he gave her a glare when he saw that her hair was down and she was not wearing shoe covers or gloves.

“I haven’t found anything, and honestly Arnold I don’t want to be the one to tell Captain Winston that his other daughter is dead as well.” Sammie put a hand to her face and suddenly felt more tired and in the need for a drink than she had in a long time. One of the officers patted her back soothingly,

“Don’t worry Sammie,” said Cassie from the forensics team, she was snapping pictures of the scene. “We’ll take of it, you should probably come see the autopsy reports and such when they do come back.”

“Yeah, uh would you mind telling the Captain that I’m going to take leave the rest of the day.” Sammie mumbled nervously she had decided not to tell Arnold about the British feminine voice she had heard.

“Don’t worry about it Sammie, we’ve got you covered.” said Arnold.

“Thanks Arnold. Good luck!” she said.

“Wait Samantha! What is this?” Cassie held up Sammie’s gun that had been dropped by the door.

“It’s mine actually, I had it out in case the murderer was still in here,” she said weakly, her face paled.

“Well, we’re going to have to see if the bullets in this gun match up to the wounds on the victim, you might have to be taken in for questioning, you were the only one here after all.” Arnold explained.

Sammie nodded before swiftly leaving the horrifying scene of the hotel room which included Joan Smith’s bloodied ‘frozen in shock’ body being bagged up, her grey, long sleeved shirt had developed a pool of blood in the center. 

She sprinted down through the fancy lobby of the St. Regis Hotel with its sparkling chandeliers that now seemed dull, with no sparkle left. Sammie zipped up her coat and drove back to her apartment, she checked her watch that was in her bag it was 5:45 she got out of the car and went inside her chilly apartment, it was too expensive to leave the heat on during the day. 

Sammie started a fire in her fire place and put on Black Sabbath’s “Paranoid” album the heavy rock made her feel better immediately. She went to her bathroom and took a scorching hot shower, she cried letting the hot water wash away her salty tears, she got out and she dried and combed her curly hair she pinned her blue streaked pieces of hair back, she brushed her teeth, dabbed on perfume, and applied more makeup than she usually did; she deepened her bright fuchsia lip color, smoked out her pink and black eyeshadow, and added another layer of eyeliner. 

Sammie put on some black stockings, with a pink and black polka dotted dress, she put on her tan trench coat that she used for special occasions or nights out that weren’t work related. She added a pink, purple, and yellow patterned scarf and put on a light pink beanie and unfortunately pink heels (kudos of her savings that were really meant for hot water rent and goldfish). 

Sammie wanted to look her best for Daniel and didn’t want him to think that she was bland from wearing the same black converse or occasional pair of doc martens. Sammie finally put her pager, keys, lipstick, mints, and other necessities in a small black beaded purse and put out the fire in her fire place. 

At 6:55 she walked a block (which was truly just wobbling and trying not to slip on the ice in her heels) to the neighborhood bar, passing the usual crowd of homeless people that lived on the streets of her neighborhood. When she walked in she sat down on a bar stool and ordered a vodka with coke and two shots of tequila, she took both shots and winced as the alcohol burned her throat, she sipped her drink and began to feel a buzz. 

She sighed and looked at the atmosphere around the bar which wasn’t too crowded for a Friday night, there was a band who was beginning to set up the guitarist had a goatee and the drummer had red hair. Thirty minutes later Daniel walked in wearing the same clothes as earlier, he also smelled strange meaning he hadn't even bothered to clean up to come see her. He sat next to her with another bar stool between them and ordered a scotch.

“Uh hi Daniel.” Sammie said nervously, twirling an extra curly piece of hair around her finger.

“Oh Samantha I forgot we were meeting if I’m being honest,” he took a obnoxiously large gulp of scotch and belched, Sammie winced realizing that he was late because he had forgotten about her.

“Then why did you ask me here in the first place?” she ordered another two shots and another vodka with coke.

“Well, I heard about the little ‘incident’ at the hotel today, and honestly Samantha the Captain won’t be too impressed that you were the only person around at the scene of his other daughters murder, and the fact that you didn’t call the police the moment you left your apartment.” Sammie shook her head taking the two shots, the alcohol was making her thoughts fuzzy.

“Wait a minute, so you’re telling me that I’m on the suspect list for Joan Smith’s murder because I was the only person there? That’s ridiculous! There was someone else murdering her in the hotel room, I could hear her screaming!” Sammie threw her hands up in exasperation taking three gulps of her drink, having no realization that this is what Arnold had attempted to explain to her.

“See, let me let you in on a little secret here Samantha.” Daniel whispered, his warm boozy breath hitting her ear causing her to shiver. “You’re. Going. To. Get. Replaced. By. Francine.” He punctuated every single word his Brooklyn accent was thicker and in that moment Sammie realized her mistake of even going to the hotel.

“Shit!” She could feel all of her drinks burbling in her belly, she ran to the bathroom and emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet and began to sob. Sammie suddenly had a vision, it came in sharply and unexpectedly, it was of herself walking down the hallway in the hotel to Joan Smith’s room and hearing the screams. 

She heard the feminine British accent once again and realized that it was none other than Francine Dupont who had been her nurse from when she passed out on New Year’s Eve. It all came tumbling back the ‘Frankie’ figure that Daniel had been talking to on the phone was Francine, and they were romantically linked and working together to bring her down.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammie goes to the bar with Daniel Malcolm. She reflects on her friendship with Patrick.

February 1st, 1985 Manhattan, New York 9:00pm (The Neighborhood Bar/Sammie’s Apartment) 

It was 9’clock. Sammie was so drunk she could hardly remember what Daniel Malcolm had told her about her replacement by his perfect blond lover. Speaking of which right after he told her, Daniel Malcolm had sauntered off, without even paying his tab. 

Sammie had returned from the bathroom to find their tabs together, she sighed and rubbed her overly made up, itchy and tired raccoon eyes, and she threw down a fifty dollar bill from her birthday money stack not even bothering to wait for change. 

Sammie began to stagger back to her apartment, holding on to the brick walls of the other complexes. To her relief she reached the stairs of her apartment only a good twenty minutes later, the wobbling down the block had taken her fifteen minutes longer than it would have if she was sober, but then again she was in heels and it was thirty below zero so it would have taken her fifteen minutes either way. 

Sammie tripped up the stairs a bit and eventually made it inside, and though it was cold, it sure as hell was nice to be back in the familiarity of her tiny apartment. She threw her bag and coat on the couch and took off the pink shoes that made her feel like she was a horse, she started a fire and blasted The Who’s “Who’s Next” vinyl on her record player. 

Her head was throbbing, she gulped down two of her metallic tasting pain meds and took off the old bandages and replaced them. 

Sammie went to take yet another scorching hot shower she could hear the first notes of the instrumental from one of her favorite songs “Baba O’Riley”. She began to sing along to the words:  
"Don't cry  
Don't raise your eye  
It's only teenage wasteland!” and before she knew what was happening in her drunken state she began to cry. Sammie always thought that crying was a sign of the weak, and suddenly she had a flashback to last time she got Patrick so wasted that he could barely move. 

Char and Via only drank occasionally, Amelia-Jane claimed that she didn’t have time to drink, but Patrick had never drank, or at least gotten drunk in his life.

(Flashback: June 3rd, 1981)

Sammie had invited Patrick over for a “Doctor Who” marathon. She had a plan. Sammie was not going to drink as much that night, she wanted to get Pat drunk and wanted to see what would happen. 

It was 7:00 she was preparing jello shots, Patrick was obsessed with jello, he’d be so affiliated with trying to get her to return his affection that he would not even notice the difference between jello shots and legitimate jello shots. Suddenly, her timer for the pizza in the oven went off she took it out and cut it up. 

Sammie went over to her record player and put on The Who’s “Who’s Next” vinyl on, she started to dance and twirl around her apartment to “Baba O’Riley” she was excited about everything that was going to happen, and she loved her outfit. 

She was wearing a new pair of high waisted jeans and a short sleeved blue henley, to tame her curls through the summer heat she had tied a blue bandana on her head, there was also the unfortunate fact that she didn’t want to use her air conditioning except for sleeping so it was sweltering in her apartment. Patrick promptly rang the doorbell at around 7:15, she opened the door and gave him a one armed hug, as he was holding a pumpkin pie and he was sweaty, wearing far too much cologne.

“Hey Sammie! Are you excited we get to watch Doctor Who and hang out!” Sammie resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her friend, who sounded like a seven year old girl who had just received the newest Barbie cash register.

“Of course I’m excited Pat! Why wouldn't I be?” she gave a fake smile and a slightly nervous laugh at the prospect of what she was getting herself into. She handed him a plate and they both began to help themselves to some cheese pizza, Sammie turned on the TV and got the show set up the show. They were going to watch season eighteen episode twenty-five called ‘Logopolis: Part 1’ with the fourth Doctor Tom Baker. 

Patrick sat down on the couch and made himself comfortable with his pizza and an apple juice pouch, Sammie went to get the jello shots she came back to the couch, put them on the table, and sat down next to him. Patrick tried to put his sweaty elephant trunk like arm around her shoulder, she shifted away and grabbed two jello shots, handing one to him he nonchalantly shrugged and drank it wincing a bit completely oblivious to the alcohol. 

“Jeez Sammie what’d you put in here?” he said as he took two more.

“Secrets, secrets.” Sammie giggled. Patrick in that moment had gotten the wrong idea about her giggling, or the alcohol had hit him much harder than she had thought because he crashed his slimy mouth onto hers. 

Sammie’s eyes widened she attempted to shove his weight off of her to no avail, but when she began to feel a protruding alcohol tasting tongue in her mouth it had all gone too far. She shoved him hard in the chest and he fell back with a thump.

“What the hell are you doing?” she snapped wiping her mouth.

“I thought you liked me Sammie, you always give me mixed signals.” his words were beginning to slur and he took another shot.

“Okay, okay that’s enough for you Pat.” she grabbed his big sweaty hand and pulled him up and towards the door, he tried to drunkenly slam her against the door outside to kiss her but she dug her fingers into his wrist and locked the door. 

Eventually she got him into her car and rolled down all the windows, she had to pull over halfway through the drive to his house so he could vomit, she managed to get his keys out of his pocket and got him inside and onto his bed. Sammie left his house without looking back feeling slightly guilty, she brushed it off with a fake smile and her chin towards the night sky. (end flashback)

Once Sammie had finished her crying to the point where her eyes most likely couldn't produce any more tears, to the point where her skin was wrinkly and like a prune, to the point where she would have no hot water and a high water bill, she finally got out. She dried off and put on the baggiest sweatpants and sweater that she could find in her closet she walked up to her window and looked out at a bright full moon,

“Perhaps the wolf is in love with the moon, and each month it cries for a love it will never reach nor touch.” Sammie muttered to herself, she walked away from her window and went to the bathroom to grab an Advil an eerie silence that she did not like filled her apartment now that the record had finished. 

She went to the TV and turned it on, getting ready to play “Nightmare on Elm Street” from her earlier recording when she noticed the news, she grabbed the remote and turned it up.  
“Another unexplainable tragedy, and a double homicide gone cold and rogue for New York City Police Captain Winston Smith, whose daughter Jamie Smith went missing on New Year’s Eve and her twin sister Joan Smith was murdered just today…” 

Sammie couldn’t handle watching the reports any more, she put her head in her hands, ate a handful of goldfish from sometime ago, she grabbed a cigarette pack to smoke after her call and turned off the TV she then went to her landline to dial Amelia-Jane’s number.

“Hallo? This is Amelia-Jane.” She sounded tired, her voice was raspy.

“It’s Sammie, I cannot believe both Joan and most likely Jamie are dead.” Sammie was slurring began to heave sobs.

“Sammie you need to calm the hell down, you sound so damn drunk that I think you need to go to bed. If I call John and Martha this late they will be so angry, why are you so pissed anyways?”

“It’s this case, and this stupid ‘date’ I went on with Daniel Malcolm-”  
“  
Sammie I told you he’s a worthless piece of shit, you can’t be worrying about him when you need to get down to business with this case. Go to bed ok? Remember don’t keep watering a dead flower, what’s done is done.”

“Okay, goodnight Amy.”

“Goodnight Sammie, call me tomorrow.” She slammed the phone on the receiver and went to find some matches in her kitchen drawer, she was unable to afford a lighter and was supposed to be beating her addiction to cigarettes and drugs in general, but she had unfortunately obtained the ‘alcoholic gene’ from her grandfather who died in a head on collision while drunk. She grabbed her coat that was strewn on the couch, her cigarettes, her matches, her keys, and put on her boots. 

Sammie headed out into the frigid air, there were some snow flurries falling, she nearly drunkenly stumbled down the stairs, her vision was blurry from the wind and the alcohol. 

Sammie assumed it was around 2am when she finished her entire pack of disgusting, unfiltered cigarettes, she trampled her tired body reeking of tobacco back into her apartment, put on a Beethoven vinyl and collapsed onto her bed, she wanted to cry out the lump in her throat yet she couldn’t because her eyes were parched.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammie reads through Joan Smiths' case file, and gets an unexpected visitor at her door.

Saturday February 2nd, 1985 New York City, New York 8:30 am

The bright, streaming sun woke up a hungover Sammie, she yawned, scratched her messy matted curls, stretched and sat up. She nearly fell out of bed upon rolling over to put her feet to the cold floor, her stomach rumbled as she ran to the bathroom to once again, emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. 

She was so thankful to not have work, and attempted to get up from the bathroom floor to grab an Advil from the medicine. Sammie once again scratched her messy mop of curls, groaning at the thought of having to brush her hair, and went to her cabinets that were on occasion stocked with cereal. 

Fortunately, she had gone to the grocery store that week after saving some amount of money and there was a glorious box of the newest brand of cereal called “Cinnamon Toast Crunch.” 

She poured herself a bowl and went over to her desk realizing that there was really nothing for her to do since it was a Saturday and Francine as Daniel had said was most likely going to get her job since she had screwed up saving Joan Smith. 

She got up and went out of her apartment walked down the short flight of stairs to the locked mailboxes, she opened up hers and saw a yellow envelope and many bills whether they were new, unpaid, or overdue they just kept on coming. She walked sluggishly back up the stairs and sat down at her desk once again, throwing all of her bills and other mail clutter to the side and opening the yellow envelope, inside was Joan Smith’s case file.

Name: Joan Olive Smith  
Date of Birth: April 27th, 1962  
Age: 23  
Height: 5’9  
Weight: 134  
Parents: Meg Taylor-Smith (deceased) Winston Smith  
Eye Color: Blue  
Hair Color: Red  
Last Seen: Saint Regis Hotel, New York City, New York  
Time: 4pm  
Notes: Samantha Adaline Wally Conway was on the scene. Take in for questioning.

Sammie’s spoon clattered to the bowl, they suspected her and nobody would ever believe her if she said it wasn’t her because she had been the only person seen at the time and place of Joan’s murder, and to top it all off her gun had been on the ground. 

Sammie got up from her desk and went to her bedroom to get dressed. She slipped on a pair of light wash ripped jeans and yet another (Beatles) band shirt, a loose black sweater, and her usual pair of converse. 

A knock on her door startled her from her thoughts, she ran up knowing who it would be and opened the door revealing a mean looking police officer that she had not seen at the precinct before.

“Samantha Wally Conway?”

“Yes that’s me.” She shuddered as cold metal handcuffs wrapped around her wrists like vines, and the officer read her Miranda Rights.

“You’re under arrest for the murder of Joan Smith, you have the right to remain silent anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney if you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you.” She saw a flash of emerald eyes, deep down inside she knew that this man was not an actual officer, she knew they wouldn’t arrest her without probable cause. 

Yet Sammie remained silent as the “officer” walked her out to his cruiser. The cruiser was the black Lamborghini she had seen in the hospital parking garage that had nearly hit her. Her brain was itching with a vision coming in, she could hear multiple gunshots echoing in her mind just as three shots were loudly fired in real life.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony Fartuchi gives Sammie some advice, meanwhile Francine and Daniel hatch a plot.

February 2nd, 1985 New York City, New York 8:35 am The Streets of Manhattan

As suddenly as she heard the gunshots she had a very strong vision that whipped its way into her mind, she doubled over and attempted not to fall in the back of the car with her hands cuffed. 

Sammie could see the outside of the precinct. She could hear Daniel another woman talking, she presumed it was Francine from the look of the blond hair and big bust.

“In our minds she’s guilty Frankie, she’ll look very guilty, they’ll have no reason not to believe us now you have to go do it. We have to get her to open that safe.”

“I don’t think I can just murder someone Daniel with a knife even.” Francine said quietly. Daniel wrapped his arms around her from behind.

“FIne do it with a gun then but sweetheart, I don’t think you’re going to feel so bad when we have billions of dollars and Samantha Wally Conway locked up in prison, she’s such a damn nuisance,” he said in a chilling tone.

“How much more money do we need? We’ve already been stealing from Joan’s dead twins’ bank account!” Suddenly Sammie came back to reality with a start, and everything was chaotic, the ‘officer’ left her inside the front seat of the car. 

She whipped her head and saw him now no longer with his faux police costume, but with a blue fedora, a tan trench coat, shooting a shiny, silver shotgun, and had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Panic welled up like a cloud soaking up rain, her heart thrummed against her chest it couldn’t be him. 

The man who conscientiously ruined her life, with the twins’ murders and the notes. It was Tony Fartuchi. He had come for her and now he was going to kill her. 

All thoughts of loving Daniel dissipated as Tony returned to the car and slid into the driver's seat and hurriedly unlocked her handcuffs without a second glance at her. 

His brown hair was sweaty and sticking to his forehead, his flawless skin was flushed and he was gripping the steering wheel so tight, Sammie thought his hands were going to turn white and crack like a poorly sculpted piece of art. 

The wheels screeched as Tony peeled out backwards and made an illegal u-turn driving the opposite direction down a one way street. 

One hand remained on the steering wheel as the other fired shots out the window. Sammie watched aghast gripping the life. She tried to pry it open but a strong arm gripped her wrist.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m getting out of here, I don’t know who you are and what you think you’re doing, but I don’t want to be involved.”

“How about you listen to me sweetheart, if you leave now you’ll get arrested and probably have to go to jail and you’ll have to go on trial for murder. If you come with me, you still might have to go on trial but hey at least you won’t get killed in the meantime,” he drawled in his Jersey accent.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Tony kept his head stone straight as he shot two shots from his shiny silver gun, out the window. He swerved the car to the right suddenly causing Sammie to fly into the side of the door.

“It means that you’ve been framed for murder, you were stupid enough to one; bring a gun and two; drop it, the fact that this was the Captain’s daughter, a man that you worked for, might I add makes it all the worse. I can help you.” Sammie looked at him hesitantly blinking so hard that her eyes hurt.

“You’re not going to kill me?”

“I would have done so already.” He said simply.

“What’s it going to cost me?”

“Not much just your finger, and possibly some information about the twins. Mainly Jamie Smith the one whose body they couldn’t find.” A faint vision came to Sammie’s mind as he mentioned Jamie, the memory of her bakery that she and Joan had visited.

“I visited this bakery I believe it was hers, it was shut down, it smelled vile.”

“Well you and me are going to have a little looksie, when it’s safe to go out which might be never.”

“My parents told me you aren’t real. You haven’t even confirmed if you are who I think you are.”

“That, Samantha is for you to decide and to figure out. You’re a detective, not a good one, but still a detective all the same.” He pulled out a cigarette, one of the filtered kinds that gave the most amazing ten minute high. 

Sammie’s mouth watered at the thought of smoking one once again.

“Would ya’ mind giving me one of those?” She pointed to the pack.

“Samantha.” Tony began taking a drag. “Have you ever heard the saying that when a shooting star flies across the night sky it’s really just an angel putting out their cigarette before anyone can catch them?”

“No,” she said quietly. “When and why would I have ever heard anything so ridiculous! All I asked for is a cigarette!” She threw her hands up in exasperation and slid them over dramatically down her face.

“You need to get a little more perspective. I am not going to give you a cigarette because these happen to be my cigarettes. You also happen to be a drug addict with no money and no job.”

“Ugh you are absolutely despicable.” He shrugged his broad shoulders.

“The best are, darling, the best are.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammie and Tony Fartuchi have a philosophical discussion.

February 2nd, 1985 Manhattan, New York 10:00 am 

Not long after Sammie’s ‘arrest,’ she and Tony continued to drive through Manhattan. Tony having just barely gotten away from the patrons he was shooting at with his shiny silver gun. They merged onto the highway that connected New York and New Jersey.

“Never been out of the state you know,” Sammie told him.

“Really? Ever assume that that’s why people don’t like you in New York. Because you’re here to start all of this trouble,” he waved his hands around. Sammie scoffed.

“And you’re not? You’re the tri state area's most notorious hitman.” 

“See darlin’ that’s where you’re wrong. Who said I was the man your friends and family say you dream about.”

“I just assum-” he cut her off.

“You gotta learn never to assume anything. I haven’t even told you my name yet, let alone whether Im’a serial killer or not.”

“Are you? Going to tell me, I mean.” Tony shook his head.

“For me to know and you to figure out, maybe once you’ve helped me and I get your sorry ass outta jail I’ll tell you. But you’re not off the hook yet.” 

“Why are we in Jersey anyways? I thought we were going to Jamie’s apparent bakery.”

“Well, you see those guys and I…” he hesitated “aren’t exactly on the same page about a deal.”

“I’m not even going to ask,” Sammie said.

“You don’t want to know kid.”

“What so now I’m a kid to you? First I’m ‘darlin’ now I’m ‘kid’?! Common I’m twenty five!” She waved up her hands in frustration as they hit her lap. 

“You sure as hell don’t act like it, so I’m going to call you kid until you can grow up a bit.” Sammie’s face formed into a pout, she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m hungry,” she whined.

“You’re just going to hafta wait kid, it’s too dangerous to be seen in public.” Sammie sighed and turned to look out the window which had turned into a stretch of highway and roads. Sammie began to wonder if she should’ve told Char or Via or even Amelia-Jane of what had happened, but she figured they would either hear from the precinct or the news, whichever came first. 

Eventually after what seemed like an eternity of endless driving, at around seven Tony Fartuchi and Sammie ended up in a roadside motel slightly outside New Jersey. Tony sat on the floor fixing up an old bike, it looked more like he had gone dumpster diving and picked out some random scraps of metal. 

It was orange as the sun with paint chips peeling off of it and dirt all through its black rubber tires. It lay at his feet against the arm of a couch. 

“Your hands are rusty.”

“Indeed they are.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“No.”

“Why not?” He slapped his hands on his knees and pointed at her.

“When ya’ figure out that this life is just a bowl of rust you’ll understand.”

“Why do you say such ‘wise man’ things?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why are you telling me the jobless, poor drug addict that life's a bowl of rust, I think I know that.” He didn’t respond as she began to pace the room, she couldn’t even begin to figure out what in the universe he meant.

“It looks like you’ve stayed here before.” She said nonchalantly, waving her hands around the mass pile of stuff around the small motel room, he had placed his tan trench coat on the couch, yet he was still wearing his fedora--probably had some bald spots from stress despite looking like he was in his 30s.

“Yeah I have, I would tell you more, but in case you haven’t noticed I’m busy and I don’t trust ya’ kid.” Sammie’s shoulder’s slumped. 

“What do you need me here for?”

“Dammit,” he swore in his heavy New Jersey accent, sucking a small drop of crimson blood off his finger.

“What in the world are you doing?”

“Stop changing the subject, kid.” He sighed clearly fed up with fixing his hunk of metal,”I need you to help me clear up this deal...You could say it went a bit...let's call it rogue.” Sammie looked at him suspiciously, but didn’t press on.

“Why are you fixing this bike it’s in shambles anyways? Aren’t you rich? Just buy a new one!”

“See kid, that’s what you’re not getting,” he said looking up from the bike. “You’ve probably heard the saying ‘money doesn’t buy happiness’ more times than you can count. Yes I am rich, and yes of course I would gladly go out and buy a brand new highly improved sleek, bike, in a different color even. But I won’t because you know what I understand kid? I understand the value of money and that I need to save mine in case I need to get my ass outta’ somethin’, cause’ you sure as hell ain’t getting getting yours outta’ anything.” 

Sammie just glared at him and walked over to the couch, it was tattered up as though a cat had ripped it all up and it had yellow dirtied styrofoam leaking out of the worn brown leather. She looked down at it for a moment, looked at down at Tony and then looked over to the single twin bed in the middle of the room. 

There was no way at all that she would ever share a bed with a known serial killer, however real or real he might’ve been to the public, and sharing such a small space at that where he could just whip out a knife, slit her artery and be done with it, nobody would even know she was dead. Sammie shuddered at the prospect, suddenly feeling very tired and smelling something acrid she went over to the bathroom. 

Upon opening the shower door she found an unwelcome guest.  
“AHHHHHHH!” Sammie screamed as loud as she could and almost vomited at the sight of a man slumped over, thinking he was dead. 

The man’s eyes fluttered open and immediately Sammie noticed that they were bloodshot red, with deep, dark, sagging purple circles underneath his eyes. 

He was chubby, his hair was light brown, short and spiky and his skin had pimples of varying size all over.

“Jeez kid what’s the matter...oh!” Tony came staggering inside the cramped bathroom space. 

“Oh gosh! Angus buddy whaddya’ still doing here?” Angus rubbed his hands over his face and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles like a small child.

“What are you talking about? I just got here.” 

“Nah buddy you didn’t. You been here since...yesterday I would say. How much crack did ya’ do?”

“I don’t remember.” Angus mumbled. “All I know is that we were partying here and you bought some of that real good rock and everything went black.” He began to retrieve something out of his too-small-looking black hoodie.

“By the way man, I think this belongs to your girlfriend over there, I don’t remember how I got it,” he sniffled a few times. Sammie took a few more steps back from where she was standing, bumping into Tony. He held up a crumbled piece of notebook paper that had been very obviously folded and refolded a number of times, Sammie paled.

“She’s not my girlfriend Angus but this does belong to her.” He began to laugh this distorted malicious sounding laugh. “Oh this is just too good!” He said as he read, wiping tears from his dark green eyes.  
“What?! What is it?” Sammie questioned anxiously, trying to get around him to grab the note, he kept on dodging her, still cackling evilly. 

“It’s one of ya’ silly little love notes to Daniel Malcolm.” Tony said in a squeaky unsuccessful attempt to sound like a female.

“Oh no, no, no, please don’t read that!” Finally Sammie managed to snatch the note out of his hand and read it to herself.  
Dear Diary,   
I just love Daniel Malcolm so much.   
Oh how I wish he would notice me, he never speaks to me.  
I think he thinks that I’m stupid.  
That’s alright I suppose, because he’s just so cute.  
Even though he pushed me when I was holding his scalding hot coffee…   
Or how he shoved me when I was walking to my car… In heels might I add!!   
………  
Love,   
Samantha Wally Conway <3

There happened to be a chunk of writing that was washed away, most likely from being stuffed into Angus’s small pocket. Sammie however was angry that Tony of all people had read any of it, she was raging and felt like she had white smoke coming out of her ears from how angry and red her face was.

“How the hell did you get into my apartment?!!!!!” She yelled. Tony turned to look at her.

“Kid, do ya’ remember when you received that note?”

“Yeah?”

“Who else would've left you one?”

“OH MY GOSH I HATE YOU SO MUCH!” Tony smirked then laughed.  
“As I’ve been told many times before by many, many, many people other than yourself.” Sammie began to pace the small bathroom once more.

“You...you came into my apartment, you take me to this shitty motel where I don’t even have anywhere to sleep, and you have some poor doped up bastard in your shower!”

“Excuse me kid?” Tony overdramatically cleared his throat. “Yeah sorry I’ll need to intervene for jus’ a second.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and looked directly into her eyes.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully now, ok, only because your life may depend on it.” Sammie rolled her eyes.

“Yeah yeah, carry on.” Tony pulled back.

“I’m being serious, Angus tell her I’m being serious.”

“He’s being serious, girl.” Angus said in a monotone voice. 

“You. Are. Taking. The. Couch.”

“WHAT?!”

“Listen kid, you have never known what it’s like to live on the streets, despite being a poor, lonely, drug addict at the moment. You only have ever gotten money from ‘Mommy and Daddy’s’ bank accounts, so you’re going to learn the hard way how to grow up.”

“Fine.” Sammie responded flatly, rolling her eyes and stomping away to the couch. When she layed on it, it was terrible. It felt like the couch she always had to sleep on when she and her parents would visit her evil Grandma Bonnie and Papa Clyde. 

The couch was rock hard, it felt like bricks on her back and reeked of tobacco, which was slightly comforting in the sense that she felt irritable and sweaty from not doing some sort of drug in the hours past. She sighed, turned over and willed sleep to take over.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammie and Tony Fartuchi have a heart to heart, Sammie reflects on past failed relationships.

February 3rd, 1985 Middle of Nowhere, New York/New Jersey 5:30-6:00 am

Sammie woke up the next morning, checking the clock on the wall she saw that it was only dawn and the streaming, bright sunlight is what woke her up. She felt groggy yet she felt less disoriented while waking up than she had in a long time. 

Sammie then realized what her friends meant about feeling slightly better while waking up without drugs in her system. 

Sammie rolled off of the hard couch, smoothed down her wrinkled outfit that she had been wearing for two days and trotted over to the door. 

As she opened the door, she squinted when she was met with an eyeful of the sun. The street was desolate, nobody else was out on the motel ramp way except for her, she shivered in the February air. 

The only sound she heard was the slight howl from the wind and some pieces of garbage rolling around. The sunrise (and sunset) always calmed her, they always made her feel as though everything would somehow be okay, because if the sun rose (and set) then the day was complete and that always meant that she had made it through life. 

Sammie yawned realizing that if she was going to help Tony without getting killed she would have to have a few cups of coffee. She walked back inside the motel room, heading towards the bathroom, she cautiously peeked inside the shower and found that thankfully Angus was no longer there. 

She wasn’t sure what Tony had done with him the night before, nor did she care. She shut the door and began to freshen up, splashing cold water on her makeup smeared face when suddenly someone barged in.

“What the hell?!” She shouted towards the door with her eyes shut and she tried to avoid getting the cheap bar soap in them. Sammie heard the door hit the wall,

“Kid I gotta take a piss! Open the damn door!” The voice Sammie recognized as Tony said.

“Ew! Just wait until I’m finished it’ll take me two seconds!” Sammie responded quickly drying off her face on a hand towel, shuddering momentarily at the amount of makeup that had come off. 

“Well you’d best let me go or you’z the one who's gonna be cleaning it up.” Sammie shuddered again and ran out of the bathroom.

“You are the most disgusting person I’ve ever met.” Tony ran past her.

“You’re a close second kid.” He said. Sammie wrinkled her button nose, something that she found herself doing more and more. She walked out back into what could be considered the living room but what she referred to as the ‘bike and couch room.’ Sammie spotted a CD player

“Can I put on some tunes?” Sammie asked.

“Go for it kid.” Tony called back. Sammie was fascinated with the CD player, having wanted one herself but unable to afford it. She played around with it and changed the song frequently, she played songs from “Like A Virgin” Madonna's latest album and one of her personal favorite pop albums. 

“Stop changing the song so much kid!” Tony said coming into the ‘bedroom’ he picked out one himself and changed it. The first few bars of “I Wanna Know What Love Is” by Foreigner came on.

“See this is much better. We don’t have much to do today kid, I sent Angus out to get us some food and such, there’s some old clothes you can wear in the closet, but I think since you’re going to be helping me we should perhaps to get to know each other.” Tony Fartuchi slithered ever so seductively like a snake up to Sammie, and for the first time in her entire life since having her heart broken by every single man (and woman) that she had ever been with wasn’t enough her stomach fluttered. 

Samantha Wally Conway’s stomach fluttered like a hundred poisonous butterflies came and stabbed the living daylight out of her common sense. Her stomach fluttered in the face of a hitman. 

A HITMAN! Who she had to admit, despite his annoyingness he was quite attractive. There was something about his mop of curly golden brown hair, his menacing smile and dark brown eyes that captivated her soul.

“Tell me a story kid, about anything.” He said sliding his arms around her waist and swaying to the beat of the music.

“Didn’t expect you to like dancing.” Sammie teased with a small smile.

“My biggest secret right here kid, now tell me that story.”

“Well I was sixteen and all of my friends were talking about having sex and telling sex jokes, keep in mind I was friends with a lot of boys..”

“Oh dear this story is going to be interesting kid…”  
Flashback 1976 

Sammie hung back in the hallway of her high school on a day in early September, her best friend Patrick Gunnery was coming to meet her at her locker and take her to a drive in movie. 

Despite what everyone thought, no they were not dating, Sammie kept her voice rehearsed and bland and her expression blank whenever someone bothered to ask. Patrick walked, which was more like loudly galloped, towards her and attempted to wrap his tall chubby frame around her tall and lean frame. Sammie tensed up and he pulled away.

“Hey Pat,” she said forcing a smile.

“Hi Sammie!” He said with hundred times the enthusiasm. “Ready to go?”

“Yep.” Truth be told sixteen year old Sammie wanted nothing more than a nice joint and some reggae music on her record player. She briefly thought about canceling and just asking her cousin Amelia-Jane to hang out and smoke, but knew that Pat would go crazy and keep on insisting till she complied once more.

“Best to get it over with,” she muttered under her breath as she put her blue Jansport backpack in his car.

“What do you want to see?” Patrick questioned.

“‘Carrie.’” Sammie replied simply knowing that Pat absolutely hated scary movies and this one was going to be on of the scariest of the year.

He winced as he replied “ok” in a weak voice. They arrived at the theatre ten minutes later, pulling in through the gate and buying the tickets. 

Patrick then pulled up as close to the front as possible, as it was crowded. He rolled down the windows so they could hear and because she was sweltering in the car, it was a warm and humid. The movie started, it was gory to begin with and Sammie loved it. 

Patrick being the giant craven that he was, cowered into her shoulder and covered his eyes whenever the ‘blood’ was on the screen. He began to whimper as the Mom sent Carrie into her ‘closet.’

“Patrick calm the hell down.” Sammie said, adjusting herself in the seat and pushing her damp, curly hair as far behind her head as she could. Suddenly she felt someone’s eyes on her, through a slight vision.

“You look hot when you’re sweaty.” Patrick blurted out of nowhere.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

“WHAT??”

“Sammie I had sex for the first time the other day.” He said with the enthusiasm of a puppy. Sammie scooted as far away from him as her seat would allow, rolling up her windows so the people around them wouldn’t hear. She felt like she was going to throw up.

“Patrick.” Sammie said calmly closing her eyes and taking a deep inhale and exhale. “Why is it necessary that you tell me this now? Who was it even with?”

“I thought you said that ‘if you hadn’t done it by the time junior year came around then you and I would…”

“Patrick. I was fifteen when I said that, I was immature. I’ve thought about it and I’m not emotionally ready for that.”  
“Okay Sammie whatever you say.” Patrick replied with a wave of his hand. “As for who I did it with, I can’t tell you, she wants me to keep it absolutely secret.” He gave her a creepy smirk. 

“Patrick please drive me home. And while you’re at it give me a fucking cigarette.”

“I thought you wanted to see this movie! And Sammie you’re supposed to be stopping you know all the shit you do isn’t good for you!” He exclaimed slamming his hand against the steering wheel.

“Please take me home now, my head hurts.” She said through gritted teeth, it wasn’t at all a lie her head was pounding against her skull.

“Fine.” Patrick said moodily starting the car to the dismay of the other people around them and driving off. (end flashback)

“Kid I haffta say your friend Patrick sounds like an interesting fellow.”

“He is, I’ll say I’m glad nothing happened with him, a few days after that he thought that he got the ‘secret girl’ pregnant.” Tony grimaced.

“Well kid, since you told me a story you can ask me a question I suppose.”

“Are you Tony Fartuchi?” Sammie asked bluntly looking straight into him.

“I can’t answer that, kid, that piece of information is for me to know and you to find out.” The CD player that had been playing some song or another stopped as the album ended. 

“What tunes do ya’ wanna listen to next kid?” Sammie shivered when he was no longer near her and immediately missed the closeness. 

‘No, no, no absolutely not’ she thought to herself.   
‘You cannot be with him or anyone it’ll end just like every other failed attempt at a relationship.’ She shook herself out of it as he came back and Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” album began to play.

“I love this album!” Sammie exclaimed with delight shaking her body around in sloppy movements that could only be described as a failed attempt at a combination of being sexy and dancing. Her curly hair flew everywhere and her dyed blue pieces of hair got into her face her back was facing Tony. 

He stood trying to stifle his laughter, Sammie whipped around and did a ‘come hither’ motion with her finger as she struggled to do the ‘moonwalk.’ Sammie suddenly felt unsteady and tripped, ever so slightly expecting Tony to catch her, she hit the floor with a loud ungraceful ‘thump.’ Tony fell into peals of laughter, Sammie soon followed and they had tears streaming down their faces as he reluctantly helped her off the ground. 

Tony knew that now would be the moment to change everything, he knew that it had to be done within a few weeks or else he himself would be killed, and now more than anything he wanted to continue living. Sammie felt a warm calloused hand cup her cheek, he began to tilt his face in when suddenly…


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammie and Tony Fartuchi hatch out a plan for their 'risky business' at the Metropolitan's Ball.

February 3rd, 1985 Middle of Nowhere, New York/New Jersey 6:30-7:00 am

“I’VE GOT MCDONALDS!!” Came an obnoxious monotonic sounding shout from the doorway. It was Angus, holding a giant McDonalds bag and some coffees. 

Tony sighed and shook his head, quickly disentangling himself from their position, he went over to turn off the music he then walked over to Angus and snatched the bag.

“Thanks.” He muttered coldly. Sammie felt her stomach growl and decided to ignore what happened she shook her head, ‘he probably was just getting an eyelash off my face or something’ she thought sourly. The trio sat down on the uncomfortable couch behind a small wooden coffee table.

“I feel like I was maybe interrupting something?” Angus said in his monotone voice.

“NO!” Both Sammie and Tony cried out at the same time and a bit too quickly. Angus gave them both a clueless look and went on unpacking the food onto the table.

“I didn’t know what you all liked so I got a bit of everything, plus I needed to deal some good ol’ C to a friend of a friend.” Sammie shuddered, she always told herself that she would never touch cocaine after a classmate had overdosed and died in high school. She took out a Big Mac and took a bite, closing her eyes at the taste.

“Mhmmmm,” she breathed out.

“Is it really that good kid?” Tony asked giving her a look and taking a bite out of his own hamburger.

“Remember according you I’m only a ‘poor drug addict’ though those might have not been your words exactly I know you were thinking it at some point.” She snapped back. 

Tony only shrugged but did not respond and the room was filled with an uncomfortable silence. A thought suddenly dawned on Sammie as she finished her hamburger.

“Tony why am I here?”

“I already told ya’ kid it was to save your sorry ass.”

“There’s something else, did you kill Jamie Smith?”

“I’ll only tell you this one thing kid, I didn’t kill the Captain’s precious baby, I was hired to but someone got there first and it cost me a hell of a lot of money.” 

He pushed his wavy golden hair back through his fingers. “I think I have a pretty good idea of who. Also kid, you already know what happened to Joan Smith I know that much, and we both know who killed her if that wasn't obvious enough but the question is why?”

“So what are we going to do about it?”

“What do you mean we kid? I don’t need your help.”

“You probably will.” Sammie stood up defiantly putting her hands on her small waist.

“I like your courage kid, but what we need to do is risky business.”

“I’m up for it.” Sammie said with as much confidence as she could muster looking at him straight in the eyes.

“I like the sound of that,” Tony replied.

“Do you have a plan for how we are going to take on this ‘risky business’?”

“I’ve always got a plan kid.”

“Get on with it then.” Sammie stated, waving her hands in a grand gesture towards him. He looked at his fancy gold rolex watch.

“Tomorrow night there’s going to be a giant party type of event, held at the one the only; Museum of Metropolitan Art. Nothing too fancy but they are requiring masquerade masks for some reason or another. The men that hired me are going to be there. You can only get in by invitation which I already have taken care of and you have to bring a date. 

“That’s where you come in of course, there are things for you to wear in the closet because you look like a train wreck right now. Kid I’m being as nice as i can when I say this but; Do. Not. Drink. Anything. No alcohol at this party, I need you to be completely sober and it’s going to be hard for you, being an alcoholic and all. Angus here has a bottle of the finest vodka to help you out leading up to it.”

“I thought this was going to be like a spy movie, where we sneak in.” She could barely refrain from smiling at the thought of the familiar burn of alcohol down her throat.

“I’m getting to that,” he replied. “Nobody knows who I am, not even you kid, so I’m going as Tony Smith and you’re going as my wife Adeline. Don’t ask questions, having you as my ‘wife’ makes it easier to get in.” Sammie only rolled her eyes at the prospect, but deep down in her stomach the venomous butterflies returned and she willed her face not to turn hot red. 

“Won’t people figure out who you are because of your first name?”

“See kid you’re not getting it, I can’t tell you if I’m Tony I could be Adam for all you know. The men only know me as Fartuchi and you could say I’ve kept my identity and appearance pretty secret.” Sammie looked at him skeptically, 

“Ok, but what is my role in this.”

“A ring.” Tony smiled mischievously.

“A ring? I got a note about a ring a while back, right after Jamie Smith went missing...” Tony nodded in affirmation. 

“You kid gotta find the man with the pretty diamond ring on his finger, it has a golden band. I’d say it would cost oh I don’t know definitely more than ten thousand dollars. When you find it slip it on to your ring finger and meet me at the 77th street subway station. Whatever you do, don’t get on a train, buy a ticket that would normally take you back to Times Square go through and just wait there and don’t resist anything that happens to you. I gotta also warn ya kid, don’t tell anyone that you’re going, not your friends not your parents. Nobody. It’ll be a lotta pain for everyone if you do.”

As she processed all of the information Tony was feeding her a realization dawned on her. 

“Wait ten thousand dollars. That was the amount in monthly withdrawals coming out of Jamie Smith’s bank account and nobody could figure out why.”

“I gotta say kid you figured it out faster than I thought. Someone bought her that ring, nobody not even me knows who, and some of the men that I work for hired me to get it back. They killed Jamie Smith themselves because they were in a time crunch and I was busy with something else, another group to deal with if you will.”

“So what you’re saying is that these men that you worked for killed her.” Sammie exclaimed. 

“Maybe they did maybe they didn’t. Point is kid, there’s not a single bit of evidence. The only thing you know and the police know is that she went missing on New Years and nobody could find her body. The men must’ve not gotten the ring because Joan Smith was murdered as well. Then the whole thing with you passing out occurred, that’s why you looked suspicious when you were in front of Joan Smith’s hotel room with a very poor alabi and a gun on the ground.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“I work for these men, they call me and tell me everything, and you know what’s weird. They claim that they found out through the press about Joan Smith, meaning that they didn’t kill her someone else did.” 

Sammie swallowed audibly, she was not going to tell this crazy hitman about her clairvoyance, he probably already knew somehow. He had been probably spying on her when she was in the hospital!

“It’s getting late kid,” He checked his watch once again. “I gotta go out, and take care of some things but try to sleep.” Sammie nodded as he grabbed his fedora and trench coat and jogged out the door. 

She looked towards Angus, and slumped on the floor against the arm of the couch she closed her eyes while doing a come hither motion with her hand. 

“Give me the fucking vodka now.” She demanded in a sharp tone. She opened her eyes to see Angus scampering over with a rather large bottle of; as Tony had claimed was the finest and most expensive vodka in the tri state area, as well as a single cigarette and a box of matches. 

To her alcohol was alcohol and it was more expensive that the shitty stuff that she could afford. She unscrewed the cap and inhaled the smell. 

It smelled strongly of hand sanitizer but it was the most welcoming scent, she took a large gulp and swallowed closing her eyes at the familiar burn down her throat. Angus interrupted her serenity.

“Yo can I have a sip?” Sammie internally groaned and opened her eyes looking at him, he had bright red inflamed spots all around his mouth, she shuddered.

“I’d rather keep this one to myself thanks.” Sammie replied. Angus shrugged but did not press the matter any further and wandered over to the CD player to put on an album, it was Prince’s   
“Purple Rain.” 

At least Angus had a good taste in music, she saw him go into the bathroom and shut the door presumably to have his fun with a suspicious baggie of white powder that she had spotted earlier. 

Sammie sighed deeply hoping that Tony would be ok, and that she would be able to help him in any way possible, as she drank the vodka contentedly.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony Fartuchi returns to find a drunk and sleeping Sammie.

February 4th, 1985 Middle of Nowhere New York/New Jersey 12am (Midnight)

Sometime in the night the front door of the motel room opened and closed. Sammie groaned from her spot on the floor her head was already pounding, her heavy eyes began to droop. 

“Kid? Are you alright?” Tony rushed quickly to her and looked down to find the bottle of vodka completely drained, every last drop of the stuff was gone and she and the room itself stank slightly of cigarettes. Tony sighed and wiped his hands down his face.

“Oh dear kid, you really do have a problem.” She might have been tall, but hell she was skinny and he thought that with her body mass she would have been already unconscious in a pool of her own vomit. Sammie gave him the finger drunkenly as she tried to find another drop from the empty bottle to scavenge.

“You’re going to have a hell of a hangover kid.”

“That’s what aspirin, raw eggs and tomato juice are for.” She mumbled so quietly he had to bend closer to hear her. 

Tony’s stomach turned over at the mere thought of ‘raw eggs’ he shuddered and Sammie belched giving him the finger again.

“Ok kid we have a big night ahead tomorrow, time for bed.” He clapped his hands softly and hopped up from the ground figuring that she would follow.

“Fuck you are so wasted kid,” he sighed as he realized she wasn’t going to get up as she had fallen asleep and was lightly snoring. Tony bent down and attempted to pick her up three times before finally getting her up and half carried/half dragged her over to his bed. 

He sort of threw her on top of the bed in the gentlest manner he could and lifted her long legs that were hanging off the bed onto the bed and tucked her under the covers. 

He looked down at her sleeping figure thinking that one; she was too drunk to even realize that he was truly going to be sleeping wi-next to her, and two; if he got up before she did (which was likely given how hungover she was going to be) she wouldn’t even know what had happened, plus the bed was much nicer than the uncomfortable couch. 

He climbed in next to her and she immediately buried her body into his. Tony was not wearing anything but sleep pants, he wasn’t sure what to do having never been into cuddling with any of his lovers before, he had never kept a stable relationship being a hitman and his secret identity, criminal record..etc. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on top of her curly head of hair. 

Tony fell into the deepest doze that he had ever slept in his entire existence and slept the entirety of the night.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammie and Tony Fartuchi get ready for the Met's Ball.

February 4th, 1985 Middle of Nowhere New York/New Jersey 3:00pm 

‘Boom boom.’ She shot up, feeling her heart in her head which she thought might explode. It took Sammie less than 12 parsecs to stumble her way out of Tony’s arms loosely around her hips to the washroom bypassing the legs of a passed out Angus to empty her guts into the toilet basin. 

Once that was said and done, she sat on the cold tile heaving and placed her forehead against the cold toilet cover. Getting up as slowly as she could she went over to the sink and rinsed her mouth out with water and washed off her face staring deeply at her reflection in the mirror. 

Groaning at her appearance she noticed that she had circles as dark as eggplants under her eyes, she had a whole new field of swollen red pimples on her forehead and what was left from her last ‘passing out with makeup on’ all over her jawline and cheeks, her hair was as poofy as poodle fur, patting it down with water only seemed to make it more so. 

Sammie rubbed at the pimples on her foreheads digging a bitten fingernail into one between her eyebrows.

“Picking at em’ will only make em’ worse you know.” A sleep ridden voice conveyed. Sammie ignored Tony and continued on, noticing that one on her chin had already begun to bleed.

“What time is it?”

“It spreads bacteria, in the end there will be more.” he replied.

“I don’t really care.” Sammie retorted. “I only asked what time is it?”

“Three o’clock darling wife o’ mine.” he teased. Sammie gritted her teeth remembering how she had woken up. Sammie closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Did you sleep in the bed with me?”

“Kid it’s my bed, I was nice enough to lend it to you.” Sammie scoffed and decided to let the matter go she turned around from in front of the mirror to look at him.

“I would’ve invaded it sooner or later.”  
“Kid I might be sounding a bit hypocritical but you really have a bad addiction to alcohol, cigarettes...drugs in general you get where I’m going with this. I don’t care about anyone at all period. But from one addict to another I wish that you could break this habit before it consumes you.”

“What the fuck are you addicted to? Your life is amazing.” She waved her hands around.

“I’m addicted to killing. I love the thrill of possibly getting caught, it’s like the adrenaline rush you get when you’re having sex in a spot that you know you’re know supposed to be.” He winked at her and she let out a strange noise through her still gritted teeth.

“The money these guys pay me to get warm sticky blood on my hands is just wonderful-”

“Okay you can stop now. I get it, I’ll try to wean off of drugs.” She held her hand up to his face.

‘I’m still hungover.” Sammie mumbled feeling nauseous.

“Don’t say I told you so. But I told you so. ‘That’s what aspirin, raw eggs, and tomato juice are for.”

“How about you stop using quotes from when I was drunk. Now be a doll and get me these items.” She batted her long, dark eyelashes at him smeared with old mascara, and reluctantly he did as he was told which outside of his ‘work’ was quite unusual. 

Tony came back with a container of aspirin, he shoved three into her hand and gave her a glass of canned tomato juice. Sammie wrinkled her nose at the drink and gagged slightly at the smell.

“I don’t have the raw eggs, but this should help.” Sammie unwillingly picked up the glass and took a sip, her face contorted.

“Bottoms up kid.” Sammie chugged the disgusting concoction down and nearly threw it all back up when she was done. Tony cautiously began to rub small circles on the small of her back.

“What are you doing?” Sammie demanded weakly.

“You might not like me, but all I’m trying to do is help you. I wasn’t always this way.”

“What ‘way?’”

“A killer, mass mind, crazy person, whatever you want to call me.” Sammie blew air out of her pale lips in a long sigh.

“Can I go back to bed?” she questioned yawning loudly.  
“No it’s already 3, we have to leave by 5 to be there by 6-7. It’s going to be very very crowded and we have to take the long way down to avoid being shot at again.”

“Alright, I don’t know what to wear and why did we get shot at?”

“Pick a fancy dress in the closet, there’s some sort of shoes in there as well in a variety of sizes. Think about it kid, it’s a perk of the job.” He gave her a playful smile. “Get dressed kid and be ready to go in an hour.” Sammie nodded and retreated over to the closet in the bedroom. 

She looked through an entire rack of dresses before finding one in her appropriate size. It was a beautiful tight, above the knee, white, ruffled strapless dress. Sammie looked through every single pair of shoes possible only finding heels to her dismay. 

Unfortunately the highest ones in the closet were the only pair in her size, they were plain nude patent leather with what looked like a three inch platform a five inch heel which was probably the thinnest thing Sammie had ever come close to seeing. 

“Did you find anything?” Tony asked as he walked into the room freshly showered with a towel wrapped around his hips.

“Do you have any other shoes? I’m not exactly the ’queen of walking in heels.”

“Well you’re not wearing…” he looked down at her feet. “Those.” He finished with a grimace looking at her tattered up black converse.

“Hey! They’re comfortable!”

“Aren’t all women born being able to walk in heels? Isn’t that a thing?”

“Bastard.” Sammie grumbled under her breath, men would never understand anything about being a woman. He didn’t appear to have hard her and pulled the shoes from where they were limply dangling in her hands.

“Put them on kid you’ve got an hour to break em’ in.” Sammie groaned and moodily took off her shoes and socks which she had re put on only ten minutes before. She slipped on the heels which fit like the glass slippers from Cinderella. 

Sammie pushed herself off the ground once and fell back down sighing she pushed on the ground, used her stomach muscles and got up. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves did not help her shaking legs and wobbly, sweaty feet. 

She took a few steps forward, it wasn’t as bad as she had expected but she was doing what Martha Wally had always nagged her about when she wore heels and that was to “stand up straight.”  
  
"You’re not too bad kid, you’re also going to need to put some kind of makeup on. You still look hungover and exhausted.”

“All my makeup is back at my--whoah!” She lost her balance a bit and gripped onto the closet door and Tony’s bare muscular shoulder to regain it.

“My makeup kit is at my apartment. Anyways, I have to call my cousin Amelia-Jane, not to tell her what’s going on but just to check in with her. The last time I talked to her I was very drunk and I don’t want her to think that I’m dead or something.”

“We can stop by if you get ready now. The phone is on the side table next to the couch.” Sammie excused herself to take a shower, Angus was no longer in the bathroom thankfully as she entered. She shut the door behind her and made sure it was locked. 

\Sammie turned on the water as hot as it would go and ended up using an entire bottle of conditioner to detangle her hair which was really just a mass of knots. T

here was an extra razor that Sammie had grabbed from the bathroom drawer that she used to shave. When she got out she wiped the steam off of the mirror and put a towel on top of her wet hair. 

She slipped into her underwear and admired herself in the mirror for a moment. Sammie was thin mostly from not eating much but she had muscle mass from jogging, her legs were long and her chest was small but offered a decent amount of cleavage with the right bras. 

She slipped on the dress and discovered that it already had a built in push up bra, she smiled at her reflection giving herself a spin. Sammie cleaned up the towels on the floor and slipped on the shoes feeling confident with her outfit. 

She took the towel off her head and shook out her damp curls, opening some of the drawers trying to find a brush and some clips or bobby pins. 

Sammie was successful in her search also finding some detangling spray as she attempted to brush out her curls to no avail, and instead switched to a wide toothed comb. 

Parting her hair into two sections over her shoulders she french braided the blue streaks of hair and used some bobby pins to pin them behind at the crown of her head. 

With a confident smile, a swish of listerine, and a stare at her growling stomach she unlocked the door and assertively walked out. 

Tony’s back was facing her and he was wearing a black tuxedo. In her mind she had to admit that he looked quite dapper. 

He turned around when he heard the ‘click clack’ of her heels on the floor and had to contain a smile, and his jaw from dropping straight to the floor. In his mind he had to admit that she looked beautiful even with no makeup on. 

“Wow kid. You look beauti-really pretty. You look really pretty.” Tony gulped loudly and shook his head at what he was about to say. Sammie frowned slightly then she looked up at him.

“You clean up nicely yourself.” She replied politely, and went over to the closet to grab a spare winter coat. Tony offered her his arm when she returned.

“Shall we?”

“Indeed. It’s going to be a hell of a night.”

“Oh kid that’s definitely an understatement.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammie and Tony Fartuchi attend the party at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

February 4th, 1985 Manhattan, New York (Metropolitan Museum of Art) 5:00pm

They swung by the east end of Manhattan at full speed in Tony’s black Lamborghini so that Sammie could grab her makeup bag, and make a call that she had forgotten to do earlier to Amelia-Jane. 

Tony said that he would wait in the car while Sammie took care of what she had to do. She forfeited her heels on the ground ran up the outside stairs and opened the always unlocked lobby door, and sprinted up to her apartment as quickly as her already sore feet would permit. 

Sammie took the spare key that she hid under her doormat, realizing that she had left her door unlocked following her ‘arrest.’ 

She stepped on a salmon colored piece of paper before entering and picked it up it claimed that she had been evicted from her apartment for not paying rent. She rolled her eyes and threw it back on the ground. Sammie knew that her parents normally paid her rent. 

They must have been on a really long money withdrawal. At that moment her eviction was the least of her worries. She entered and ran to the bathroom grabbing all of the forgotten makeup that had been left on the counter and shoving it into one of her many travel makeup bags. 

Sammie ran to her bedroom and grabbed a small duffel bag and stuffed as many articles of clothing as possible inside, she opened her bedside drawer and grabbed her passport and the only hundred dollar bill and some other small amount of cash that she had left in her ‘emergency money’ box. 

She grabbed a small black clutch for the party and put her passport inside as well as the lipstick she was going to apply. 

Sammie grabbed her purse that she had left on her couch and transferred her pager and wallet into the clutch, she covered her crate of records with a blanket. 

She ran to her phone and dialed up Amelia-Jane, Char and Via leaving them the same voicemail on their answering machine; “Hey guys it’s Sammie. I’m sorry I haven’t called I really am, I’ve been turning my life around. I’ve been evicted from my apartment so please don’t stop by unless it’s too pay rent ‘laughs’ or to pick up mail, tell them that I’m coming back one day...etc Please don’t attempt to call me, I will call you it’s not safe, don’t ask what I am up to and whatever you do not ever mention me at the precinct again. I’ll be in touch soon. Hope all is well...Oh and by the way I know you don’t believe he’s real but I might have met someone-” ‘BEEP.’ 

The call had timed out conveniently before she said too much, yet she thought it was strange that not a single one of them answered. 

They were most likely still at work she figured. Sammie sprinted with her stuff in both hands out the door, taking the key from under the mat and locking it. 

She ran outside dropped her stuff, slipped her shoes back on, and picked up her stuff before getting back in the car and throwing her stuff on the backseat.

“Why do you have all of that?”

“You never know.” Sammie replied breathless and flustered. 

“We better get going.” Tony said quizzically as he gunned the car. 

She opened up her makeup bag and began applying her moisturizer and then her foundation. Sammie wasn’t good at many things, but she was amazing with makeup and manipulating brushes to do what she wanted.

“You’re going to have to slow down a tiny bit, I’m trying to do this in a moving vehicle which is already hard enough, but a vehicle going 150mph only makes it worse and you and I both don’t want me looking like a miserable, orange racoon now do we?” 

Tony looked over at her and nodded his head quickly, slowing the car down a considerable amount. 

Sammie began to powder her face, and applied her eye makeup which was a simple sparkly dark blue eyeshadow and jet black eyeliner topping it off with her favorite mascara and her favorite bright red lipstick that accentuated her plump pout. 

When she was finished she lightly tapped Tony on the shoulder.

“Well? What do you think?”

“Kid you look nice but I think I prefer you without all that stuff on your face. It’s just not you, have fun tonight though, you deserve it.” 

The rest of the car ride to the other side of town was rather silent and before Sammie knew it she was grabbing her black coat and her small black clutch with her pager lipstick, passport and wallet and was being escorted out of the car in front of the Museum. 

Tony once again offered his arm and they cautiously walked up the red carpeted stairs to the front door of the museum. They were greeted by a large black beefy security guard who was checking invitations.

“And who might be this lovely young lady Mr. Smith.” The guard looked at Sammie suspiciously.

“This is my stunning wife Adeline, we haven’t been married for very long.” Tony replied without a single waiver of hesitance in his voice. It sounded completely rehearsed to the point that Sammie might have believed it herself.

“Alright Mr. and Mrs. Smith have fun tonight.” He handed them two masquerade masks with black intricate designs on them. The duo put on their masks and walked into the main lobby where it was bustling with other party goers in similar masks. 

An instrumental of an Ella Fitzgerald song was being played by a band and Sammie couldn’t help but sway slightly to the music.

“Promise me one dance tonight please?” She whispered close to Tony’s ear, after they had checked in their coats. He looked at her for a long moment and didn’t respond, she took that as he couldn’t promise her anything. 

“Have you been here before? It seems like the guard knew you.”

“I’ve been to hundreds of these kinds of parties kid.” Sammie sighed as they walked around, although they didn’t mingle at all. Her stomach growled once again and she grabbed an intricate looking mini hotdog off of a passing waiter's tray.

“Mmm these are delicious.” Tony looked at her sourly.

“Don’t eat too much.” He said.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want.” Sammie bitterly replied quietly. Tony didn’t say anything as they went on. To Sammie everyone looked the same, the women were in fancy looking dresses like her own but in much brighter colors and the men were in tuxedos. 

Sammie couldn’t help but gawking at a rather obese woman wearing a neon pink floor length dress. Tony pulled her away from where she was standing and staring.

“Don’t stare at anyone kid, remember what we came here for.” Suddenly Sammie’s held hurt, there was a sharp poking in her head.

“Ow!” She gasped, massaging her temples as a vision of Daniel Malcolm and Francine Dupont at that very party rushed into her head. 

The vision was blurry from it being the first one she had received in a long while, she noticed something glimmering on Francine’s finger, it resembled a ring with a gold band. Just as she was going to focus on it the vision cut.

“Kid? What’s wrong?” He pulled her against his chest and rubbed her back soothingly, she sighed because he was warm and solid and she was cold and lanky and her head still ached and more than anything in the world she wanted to go off on adventures with him and love him and learn what the feeling of blood on her hands was like. 

“They’re here.”

“Who’s here kid?” He asked urgently.

“Daniel Malcolm and Francine Dupont, she’s got the ring.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammie has a realization about Tony Fartuchi. Patrick Gunnery confronts Sammie outside the museum.

February 4th, 1985 Manhattan, New York (Metropolitan Museum of Art) 6:45-7:00 pm

Sammie’s first instinct was to kiss Tony as hard as she could and run, her second was to grab his hand and run and her third was to be a hero for once. 

“Damn kid you move fast in those heels, you’re going to haffta slow down.” Sammie didn’t reply and instead pulled him along faster, her heart was beating against her ribs so quickly she thought it would burst out of her chest, her head was still buzzing and her face was flushed, and through all these things she realized she hadn’t had nor did she need a single alcoholic beverage to make up for the rush she was feeling. 

Sammie frantically pulled Tony into one of the galleries with so few people that when the duo walked in whoever was inside left giving them strange looks, she ripped off her mask and yanked his off of his face.

“First of all ki-” Sammie grabbed him by the face pulled herself up despite that she was already taller than him and she was in heels and kissed him it took a moment before he was responding. 

He pulled back and looked at her, his own lips were slightly swollen and his face was flushed, his eyes twinkled.

“That lipstick didn’t get all over did it?” He asked teasingly. Sammie gave him a pointed look.

“I’m just kidding kid.” he said before cupping her cheeks and kissing her once again, moving down to her neck.

“Okay enough kissing. We need to figure this out.” Tony pulled away from his attack on her pulse point and pouted at her, and Sammie tried to not let him know how much she was enjoying it. “Only for now.” She confirmed when his pout didn’t let up off of his beautiful face.

“Why did your head hurt Samantha?” Sammie’s eyes widened.

“You...you used my name. You didn’t call me kid!” 

“You’ve matured, you’re figuring things out I’m proud of ya’ but we hafta figure this out.” Sammie took a deep breath.

“I’m a clairvoyant, I see things, visions. Not all the time mind you but when it’s important. I saw that they were here. I’m starting to think that they were the ones that drugged me on that New Years party. I think they killed Jamie Smith and I know for a fact that they killed Joan Smith. I believe she was figuring it all out too quickly. Francine was wearing the ring you described.”

“If what you’re saying is true, then this Daniel fella or his girlfriend has been selling classified police secrets to one of the mobs. That’s why they wanted you out, he knew you liked him and wanted you to mess up so he could frame you.”  
“So what’s so special about that ring?”

“All the mobs want it, it’s said to open a secret vault underneath the 77th street train station with so much money a man would die from looking at it.”

“Well is it true?”

“I don’t know and I was hired to find out and get the money for the man who hired me, but you’re the only one that can help me. What you need to do is find Francine maybe seduce her or something, once you do that grab the ring and whatever you do don’t put it on.”

“How come?”

“I’m not sure but I want to keep you safe.”

“Do you have any sleep narcotics of some sort?” He handed her a tiny glass vial with white powder in it.

“Much easier than having to seduce my ex-crush’s girlfriend.” She snatched the vial out of his hand.

“Meet me at the train station!” He called out as she left the gallery, when she turned around he was gone like a puff of smoke. 

It made her begin to wonder if her friends were right and he had never really been there at all, she shook the thought out of her head. 

Upon entering the main party area she spotted Francine almost immediately as they both weren’t wearing masks. She was wearing the tightest fitting red dress that squeezed her giant chest that looked like overblown balloons jutting out, it looked like the dress was about to split.

“Hello Francine. Daniel.” She nodded politely. Their mouths dropped open and closed like a gaping fish.

“What are you doing here Samantha?” Daniel snarled.

“I’m attending a nice party, same as you. I need to speak with your gorgeous lady friend for a moment.” Francine looked unsure, she grabbed her glass of red wine and followed Sammie into the same gallery she had been in with Tony only moments before. Sammie prowled up to her seductively.

“That’s a nice ring you’ve got there. Where did you get it?”  
“I-I don’t know somewhere in England, Daniel gave it to me.” Her British accent sounded off and her voice was high pitched. 

Sammie slid up into her personal space to the point where their noses were almost touching, she had opened the vial before leaving Tony, so she quickly slipped the narcotic into the glass of red wine that was practically dangling from her left hand. 

The ring glimmered against the glass, Sammie pulled away stepping a few steps back and Francine took a nervous gulp of wine.

“What do you want from me?” she inquired. 

“Just your ring.” Sammie whispered in her ear before kissing her softly on the mouth as Francine’s eyes rolled back and she passed out, dropping her glass of wine with a rather loud shatter. 

Sammie caught her as she fell and laid her gently on the floor away from the glass wine puddle. She snatched the ring off of Francine’s finger and slipped it into her clutch, walking away as quickly as she could. 

Sammie went back over to Daniel to ask the bartender for a glass of water. He looked at her suspiciously.

“Where did Frankie go?”

“Washroom.” Sammie replied calmly, finishing off her water. Daniel continued to look at her strangely as she walked quickly to get her coat from the booth and then to the exit. Walking back down the stairs she turned around to slightly see a small crowd gathering around the gallery where a passed out Francine lay. 

‘Mission accomplished’ Sammie thought to herself. She began to walk quickly down the street away from the museum to meet with Tony at the 77th street subway station. It was cold and dark, Sammie pulled her coat closer around her midsection. About halfway into the walk a familiar voice called out to her;

“Sammie?! Sammie?! Is that you?” Sammie stopped in her tracks, it couldn’t be, a large hand grasped her shoulder, Sammie gasped and whipped around.

“Holy shit Patrick you scared the hell out of me. What are you doing here?” Patrick Gunnery looked at her conspicuously as though he knew she was up to no good. He wasn’t dressed to be attending the Museum’s party which made Sammie feel even more uncomfortable in her own fancy attire.

“I should be asking you the same thing. You know it’s not safe to be out here alone at night.” Sammie began to walk once again.

“You shouldn’t worry about me Pat, I’m meeting someone.”

“Who Sammie? Why can’t you tell me anything anymore? Everyone’s been worried sick about you, you haven’t called your friends. You disappeared without a word. Someone said they saw you driving a Lamborghini. How did you even get your hands on it? You can’t even pay rent!” Sammie pulled him by his fat wrist over to the side, he was talking very loudly.

“Listen to me, you need to shut the fuck up right now. I don’t tell you anything because all you do is go blabbing around town to everyone and you can’t keep your big mouth shut. I was with someone in that car, I can’t tell you who but I’m helping him-” Patrick wrenched his hand out of her grasp.

“Oh Sammie you have got to be kidding me not this Tony Fartuchi bull shit again! He’s not real, the police never got evidence of his existence. You of all people should know that.”

“I don’t really care what you think Patrick. He’s real to me, I’ve seen him. The real him! I love him!” Sammie’s eyes began to tear up. 

"Don’t you see Sammie? This is why you never got your ‘dream job’ of being a detective, you go around saying fake stuff like this nobody is going to hire you!” Sammie looked down at the sidewalk, small flurries of snow began to come down, she shivered. 

“You know what Sammie I’m done with all your shit. I’m pretty sure your friends will be too if they knew what you were up to. Call me when you’ve regained some sense!” Patrick yelled as Sammie began to walk away willing herself not to cry. 

He was a speck in the distance when she reached the end of the block the lump in her throat was bigger and she continued to speed walk as carefully as she could with the snow and small patches of ice on the ground. 

Sammie knew Patrick was right, of course he was right, she would never become a detective, but she knew what she truly was meant to be. And that was with Tony Fartuchi.


End file.
